A Tale of Tevasta
by Iscophora
Summary: Tevasta, a human from Hossberg, Anderfels: the land of the Grey Wardens has moved to Orlais to flee from his familial restrictions. He is 25, and what first was a trip to visit his childhood friend, becomes a tale of the great Inquisition.
1. A Thief No More

Summersday 9:41, Wednesday, Dragon

"Thief! Someone stop that thief!" Master Baker screeched.

My feet pounded on the cobblestones lining the street as the wind ripped through my hair. The sack on my shoulder bounced around as I wove through the people gathered during the early morning. It was only a few hours after mid morning and right around the time the Market began to fill with crowds. I stopped by a small watering hole near the main stables and ducked beneath the drafters to catch my breath, waiting for the masses just outside to hide my presence. My ragged breaths formed clouds of condensation as the crisp morning wind sang ballads to the dewdrops. Mothers from town purchasing morning buns; pilgrims from all over Orlais marching in revered silence on Chantry Road; tourists from around Thedas wishing to visit the sites in Lydes; the crowds grew as the sun crept higher in the sky. A perfect getaway if I do say so myself. Especially on Summersday, the most important day of the year in Lydes. This was the city Empress Celene Valmont had visited 10 years prior for this particular celebration, for the official indoctrination of the new Chantry after significant damage during the Fifth Blight. Ever since, this small town grew to staggering heights. Nobles moved into the foothills, and with nobles came money and prosperity for Lydes. Today was the 10 year anniversary of that day. Tens of thousands of citizens from Orlais would be in attendance: To parade from Lydes to Val Royeaux for the main celebration of the holiday.

The shouting behind me snapped me out of my reverie as the baker I had stolen from not fifteen minutes ago and what seemed to be a small corral of previous patrons barreled into the main square.

"Where is he? Find him! Find the prick and gut him!" the baker shouted, red in the face. The surrounding crowd dispersed immediately with cries of surprise and displeasure as the eight ravenous shopkeepers fanned out among the main square. Knowing that my welcome was overstayed, I quickly slipped into the dispersing crowd and made my way down Market Street. I glanced back, only to make eye contact with the infuriated baker. I quickly swerved around and broke into a sprint away from the square.

"There he is! Catch him!" a voice shouted behind me.

Shop owners jumped out of my way as I charged down Market Street and cut a left onto Chantry grounds. Swerving to avoid a vomiting Templar, a smile crept on my face. It seems that a few of the Templars deployed for security were enjoying the Summersday celebrations a bit too much. I ducked into an alleyway and snuck into a concealed alcove. For now, I was safe. I unwrapped the sack I had been carrying and pulled out a fragrant bun from the assorted goods: saffron and orange, my favorite. As I wolfed down my prize, I carefully wrapped the rest with the sack cloth to save for later.

I turned around to witness a pretty site. Seven athletic shopkeepers and a pudgy baker fighting tooth and nail over the lingering crowd. Oddly enough, the baker was making more headway through the sea of people than the rest of my pursuers. Taking in the moment temporarily, I turned around and bolted to the Chantry entrance. I leapt across the threshold and shut the mahogany doors behind me. I slid the bolt across, locking the massive doors as a familiar voice spoke up:

"Hiding from your patrons again?"

I turned around to find Sister Arielle peeling an apple with a hunting knife, giving me a maternal stare.

"Well, I can't help it if my customers come for more. Besides, we wouldn't want unsatisfied citizens roaming around town now, do we?" I said with a shrug. I walked down the stairs from the entrance slinging the sack on my shoulder. I opened the bag and tossed her a roll still warm from the morning's batch. She caught it with an expert flick of her wrist and with practiced hands, slid the pastry into the folds of her stole, hidden from sight. She stuck her knife in the face of the oaken table, readjusted her stole and headpiece, and walked over to me by the enormous front doors.

"As much as I appreciate your little tokens of generosity…" A loud pounding echoed from the mahogany doors I had locked behind me. "I do believe you've outgrown your little tricks. This was fun and all when we were young but now I'm a Sister of the Chantry and we're at least a decade older." she finished.

"Open up! I know you're in there! I don't care if it's the Chantry or the fucking Fade, I'll find you and hang you up like a steak myself!" the baker shouted with cheers and taunts from his other accomplices.

Sister Arielle gave me a withering stare and proceeded to shuffle me into a small prayer alcove so as to conceal me from the all too eager mob outside.

"I hope in the future you will have more to your name than sack of Master Baker's saffron rolls." She enunciated with a disappointed look. She proceeded to unbolt and open the door, cutting Master Baker's eloquent homily short.

"I said to open the fucking door, you fucking dogs of the capital, I will ha-"

"Master Baker, I hope that you will forgive my intrusion," cut Sister Arielle. "Your message to the congregation is oh so elegant, however, I do believe that guest preachers are only allowed to preach once they have been authorized by the main Chantry in the capital. Also, I do not believe that men are not allowed the guest preacher position as most who deliver the homily are women. However, if you so desire to continue your path with the righteous, I do believe we have an opening for a candle maker apprenticeship. We have been running out of candles lately and Andraste knows how annoyed Mother Isabella gets when we run out of candles. Every person has their righteous calling, right?" I snuck my head around the corner to see that Sister Arielle had a subtle sneer on her face, one I knew all too well. She often made that face whenever she was being overly patronizing to the point of insult.

Master Baker was stunned into silence with Sister Arielle's sugar coated wit and began mouthing like a fish, struggling to get any words out. His face, a kaleidoscope of many emotions that seemed to get redder by the second, eventually settled on embarrassment as he muttered a quick apology and turned to scurry away. The other shopkeepers, with no leader now, decided to leave with their heads hung low in shame and embarrassment of equal value.

Sister Arielle shut the door behind her and turned to me, all cheery attitude devoid in her face.

"This is the LAST time I cover your tracks. Sure, we had fun in Hossberg, but this isn't Anderfels. We're not in the ghettos anymore, Tevasta. I gave up that life a long time ago. I'm sorry, but I can't keep doing this. I'm 25. You're about to be 25 as well. It's time we grew up. I have a new life now and I intend to see it through. I've found my calling. It's time you found yours."

Her reprimand was silencing. So much had changed in the years Arielle and I had been separated. She had decided to move to Orlais ten years ago to escape from the servant life after a lifetime of servitude to my family. I decided to move here just weeks prior. Arielle and I were more like siblings than master and servant. She was older than me by a few months, and we did everything together. We read the same books, stole pastries from the chef, played pranks on unsuspecting noble guests; we were inseparable. One of our more common activities however, was petty thieving around the center of Hossberg. When my parents were too busy arguing over finances and property management, and my tutors were busy drinking the antique wines behind their backs, Arielle and I would sneak out of the manor and out to the Markets of Hossberg. We would then proceed to pilfer all the ceramics, small crafts and delicious pastries from the markets to peddle off and make some coin. She was always reluctant to do so, but I always forced her to come. One unfortunate time, we were caught with our merchandise, and my family was furious. They couldn't believe the amount of dishonor she had brought to the family and decided I was being negatively influenced by her actions. They beat her severely and proceeded to kick her and her family out of the manor for good. We kept in contact even after she had left, but she never blamed me for the expulsion. 'It was about time I left anyway,' she would always say. And now, she became a Chantry sister; ten times more than what I have to my name."

At that particular moment, The Most Holy Divine Justinia walked into the main alcove, silencing many of the conversations in the room, and drawing many bows and hushed whispers towards her direction. Her stoic posture seemed to give off an aura of charisma and her eyes seemed to hold the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes. She scanned the room slowly, giving slight nods to each of the sisters and mothers who bowed in respectful welcome. Her eyes stopped on mine and a smile crept on her face. She walked with the regality of an Orlesian noble with purpose in each step as she made her way to us. She bowed her head slightly and with the voice filled with a century's wisdom and compassion, she spoke:

"Sister Arielle, I could not help but overhear your words to your friend here. However, you are too harsh towards your companion. Not everyone receives Andraste's benediction as early as you have, my daughter. Andraste called you at an early age to follow the Maker's will. Many do not hear her voice as clearly as you have, my child. Your young friend here is no less accomplished as you are. Andraste is all-knowing and her will is inclusive to everyone. Timing is not of any consequence. His time will come and his role will be significant in the fabric of the Maker's plan." Divine Justinia spoke with a warmth and comfort of a mother and the wisdom of a clan elder.

"Most Holy, you are most wise, I did not know you were present. It seems that I have much more praying to do." Arielle replied with a bow to Divine Justinia.

I glanced over quickly and returned my gaze back to Divine Justinia

"You are too kind, Most Holy," I replied with a bow, "but you flatter me with unnecessary praise. I have no path in my present life and I have done nothing in my life worthy of honor."

Divine Justinia put her hand under my chin and lifted my gaze to her eyes.

"My son, your time will come, I know it. It may not be now, but I assure you that Andraste has written you a part in the Maker's plan. Fear not that you have not seen it play out as of yet. Each person has their own time."

She paused for a moment and cupped my face as a mother would. She stood, turned to Arielle, and motioned to the private library in the back of the alcove.

"Sister Arielle, a private word with you, if I could?"

Arielle had a look of surprise and awe on her face.

"Of course, Most Holy, it would be my honor. Let us go."

Sister Arielle proceeded to guide Divine Justinia to the private library as they talked in hushed whispers. The library door closed and the entire alcove erupted into muted pandemonium. Every mother and sister turned to each other and began gossiping intensely. Clearly, Divine Justinia's decision to speak to my childhood friend was as shocking to me as it was to the gathered Chantry clerics. Before I could get swarmed with Chantry mothers interrogating me in regards to her, I slipped through the main mahogany doors and closed the doors behind me.

The midday sun was cresting over Lydes casting a rustic glow over the Orlesian landscape. I breathed in, smelling the periwinkle and honeysuckle bushes by the door. I walked over to an oak tree, and squatted down near its roots. I stretched out my legs on the soft grass and closed my eyes. The meeting with the Divine would take a while, wouldn't it?


	2. The Divine Invitation

Summersday 9:41, Wednesday, Dragon

There are scenes of male to male sex. graphic.

I was walking inside the Town Hall. Vast. Pristine. Gold lined marble tiles. Platinum plated statues. Paintings embroidered in silk. The black head scarf I wore hid all but my eyes behind black lace, gold embroidery, and diamond droplets. The purple chiffon wrap accentuated my lithe curves, dragging in the air with every step. My hands were painted crimson with decorative markings. To everyone here, I was an Antivan Crow, skilled at the crafts of seduction and stealthy murder, an assassin. Every noble present skirted away from my path, clearly frightened and intimidated. I scan the crowd for the Duke, wishing to mark my target early. I see another figure, dressed similarly to me. We exchange glances of confusion, quickly shifting to steely determination. We size each other up, knowing exactly how our introductions would play out in the next few hours. I feel a heavy weight on my back, suffocating me. A presence behind me. Filling my lungs with dread. I turn around, the duke, looming over me. Steely grip piercing my wrist. Knife at throat. Singing Steel. Smell of blood. Flash of fire. Back burning. I drop to the floor. I claw at my wrist. Flailing to free myself. I draw my knife and-

"Tevasta!"

I woke with a fright; sweat beading, hands shaking, knife in hand, poised to stab. My eyes dart from my hand to the woman in front of me. I drop the knife, jump back two feet and grasp the arm where the claws had dug into my flesh.

"A-A-Arielle! I-I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me. I was just sleeping, and uh-uh I didn't know you were here. I'm so sorry. I-It won't happen aga-again."

Sister Arielle, all humor gone from her eyes, rushes over. She pats my forehead dry with a towel, putting a hand on my shoulder, concern in her voice.

"Tevasta. You've been dreaming again! Why didn't you tell me? Mother Isabella can help you! We have medicines that can aide your sleep!"

"I'm fine! I don't need your-"I collapsed as I retched and hacked, the saffron bun from the morning spilling all over the honeysuckle bushes.

Arielle patted my back, consoling me as I continued to empty the contents of my stomach. Hunched over, with Arielle kneeling next to me, we remained for a good fifteen minutes as my body began to calm from the violent reaction.

I fought to calm my racing heart and breath. Sweat was rolling down my face. I looked up to see a crimson sunset, violet clouds streaking the sky. I swallowed, breathing still labored and strained. I looked to my arm seeing no claw marks. I felt my neck for a wound, and found none. I reached around to feel my back, No new wounds, but the leather like scars still striping my back. I turned to Arielle who had unveiled a wine skin of ginseng tea and dry rye bread.

"Your dreams are returning Tevasta. I thought you said that you were getting better. You need to go see Mother Isabella. Your scars are reacting again. Please, Tevasta, I know you don't like going to her, but you need to get help. Your back is killing you."

I chugged from the wine skin, coughing when I had downed the contents. I regained my composure and breathed in deep.

"No. No, Arielle, I don't need help. I just… I just need some time." I managed.

Arielle turned away, staring at the descending sun. The odd symphony of crows and carriages of returning farmers filled the air as the eighth hour was struck by the Chantry bell. None of us spoke as the Orlesian moon began to paint the sky violet. I took another swig of the wine skin and ripped off a piece of the bread. Not knowing what to say, I continued to repeat the same steps over and over as my stomach began to settle. Sitting here, in the Chantry gardens, everything seemed to be at peace. The evening stars began to twinkle in their places in the heavens, the shadows stretching further; the night was quiet. The crows in the aviary raised a ruckus as the Bird master closed the windows in the East Tower, and as if prompted, Arielle stood up suddenly. She took a deep breath and turned to me. She opened her mouth and froze, no words coming out. She remained like that for a few seconds, as if unsure of what to tell me. She closed her mouth and breathed in again. She exhaled and spoke:

"Justinia chose me, Tevasta. Justinia has invited me to join her as her second advisor at the Conclave."

I stared at her. A long second passed where none of us spoke. The gravity of the situation had yet to sink in.

"Oh my gods, Arielle! You got selected?"

Her face was glowing as she bounced in glee.

"I know right? Out of all the people, she chose me! I get to choose an escort and the kinds of meals I want and everything! Oh, Tevasta, I'd be the luckiest girl in the world if you would come with me. We'll get to see the new Temple of Sacred Ashes, we can go see the town of Haven, and we can go hiking in the mountains! I hear the snow this time of year is fluffy." She bubbled.

Her excitement turned to wordless babbling as she bounced and gripped my arm in a steely vice. Then as rapidly as she started her joyous celebration, she stopped; her arms dropping to her sides. I glanced over in confusion over the abrupt change and saw her face falling to a flat line of apathy, then to worry.

I don't even know why she chose me." Arielle clasped her hands together, wringing them in anxiety and doubt. "There are other Sisters more qualified than I am. Even then, they should have selected a Mother to go with her. A-And so late too! The Conclave is in three days! I have to prepare and get ready. I'm far too inexperi-"

"Stop rambling," I cut in, as I grabbed her hands. "Look at me, Arielle. Who cares if you're not experienced enough for this job. Clearly someone more important than any Mother saw the potential in you and chose you to be an advisor at the Conclave. No one can boast that."

Arielle smiled briefly, squeezing my hands slightly in response before clasping her hands again, muttering things about studying and packing her books.

"You know, you'll get as wrinkly as Mother Isabella the more you worry like that," I quipped at her. "But," I said in all seriousness, "if you want me to go with you to the Conclave, I'd be honored to go as your escort."

I turned to the sunset in the distance watching the violets turn to orange, the yellows to crimson, and the reds to rust. I heard a sigh next to me: Arielle's.

"Beautiful isn't it? Summersday is ending, and with the sunset comes a period of prosperity and fertility. Maker bless us all," she said with a bow towards the horizon.

We stood there for a brief moment, Arielle bowing towards the sunset, with the nightingales waking on the Chantry steeple, the cattle lowing as they migrated to their barns. A gurgle from my gut interrupted the serene ambiance.

"Yeah, sure, it's beautiful." I said dismissively "But come on! We're going to miss all the good food. Merchant hour just started and the veal on Mason's Street is to DIE for. Come ON!" I exclaimed as I pushed Arielle towards town square.

Perhaps it was the lilac colored sky, or maybe the scent of rosemary veal on Mason's Street, or maybe the news of her appointment, but whatever it was, the usually talkative Arielle was silent as we made our way to the tavern.

From a street away, I could smell the scent of summer squash pie and turnip fritters. As we approached the oaken double doors, we could hear the sound of laughter, music, and singing.

I looked over to Arielle who was shifting and wringing her hands.

"Stop looking so scared," I spoke to Arielle. "This is your night! Have fun! Loosen up!"

I pushed aside the door and called out: "Hey, Amber! Two steak specials and a bottle of your finest ale! Arielle's just been selected for the Conclave!"

I turned to Arielle, put an arm over her shoulder, and gave her a wink. She started to blush as the entire tavern got up, cheered, and each in turn came over to congratulate her and give her a big hug.

We walked across the threshold into the homey tavern. A crimson hemp rug was laid out for the Summersday Festivities, and the Summersday murals were hung up on the walls. The lanterns hung up on the ceiling swung, shining their dancing flames around the room, making the murals jump to life. I looked over to the kitchen and saw Amber barreling toward us with a child's excitement on her face. She practically tackled me and lifted me in a bear hug.

"Tevy! Oh my gods, it's you Tevy! Gods on high, you are getting taller every day." She shouted excitedly as she gave me a vice grip of a hug.

Amber owned the Mason's Street Tavern. She was stocky and smart of mouth, but everyone loved her. She built the tavern herself from the pines of the Val Forest. From then on, her tavern was an unofficial sanctuary, safe housing travelers, crooks, and royals all the same. Here, a man was as equal as another.

"It's been too long Amber," I managed as she swung us side to side.

"Well, you could have bothered yourself to visit me more, you ungrateful cretin," she said with a punch to my shoulder.

"Well now, Amber, I wanted to surprise you! I even got you a gift!" I said, pulling out my bag of pastries from this morning.

"Oh you are a devil, aren't you? Master Baker's not going to take kindly to this," she said with a smirk, grabbing a pumpkin biscuit and munching down on it. "Well, Tevy make sure you stay for the whole night, I have a big crowd and you are not off the hook young man!" She managed as she bustled back to the kitchen to continue cooking.

I looked over to see how Arielle was doing and I smiled contentedly. While Amber was monopolizing me to herself, Arielle was getting quite the crowd as people gathered around to see the Sister that Divine Justinia had chosen.

The worry on her face disappeared as she shook hands with everyone and their mother. Young, old, townsfolk and tourists, they all were as excited and joyous as Arielle was. As everyone shuffled us right up to the front of the bar, I sat down right in front of Amber and took a good look around the place. For a Summersday crowd at around the ninth hour, the tavern was actually pretty tame. The chronic drunks were pretty docile drinking themselves to a stupor. The Templars who were off duty were pretty tame as well, which surprised me. I remember a few years back when this place got so rowdy the Provost had to shut the place down for two days. Rumor has it that a fist fight between a Templar and a drunk beggar turned into a tavern brawl. What rumors won't tell you is that I was the one who picked the Templar's pocket.

"Eat up! Drink up! It's time to celebrate! This is a joyous occasion!" Amber proclaimed. "All drinks are on the house for the next hour!" To which the assembly erupted into applause.

I turned to Arielle and saw that she was smiling. Her brow was no longer furrowed and she was reclining back in her chair. She grabbed her silverware and began digging into her portion. I smiled as I downed the last of my ale.

I bit into my steak, the rosemary and thyme butter melting into my mouth. The peppercorns burst making me pucker my lips.

"Amber, whoo! This steak is the best! Another round of ales!" I shouted.

I looked to my left and saw Arielle wolfing down her portion as other Chantry sisters started arriving and flocking towards her. Her face lights up yet again as she sees all of her Chantry sister friends.

"Tevasta, this is the best night ever! You were right, I'm just in my head too much. I have to learn how to relax more. Thank you." She says sincerely.

"Stop thanking me," I managed as I looked down in embarrassment. "You thanking me is strange. Stop it."

She proceeded to ruffle my hair as she returned her attention to her friends gathered.

I take another mug of ale from Amber as I look around the room. I scan the room as more and more people file in and I see some of the rogues I've done business with in the past over by the darts and knife throwing boards.

"Hey Arielle, you want to go over and shoot some darts? Some of your old patients are back." I said with a chuckle. Many rogues in the Court of the Rogue knew that Arielle was trained in medical treatment, and they didn't need to pay her with money per se. Let's just say that she doesn't need to buy another hunting knife ever again.

We walk over and the group of rogues near the shooting boards all shouted a welcome and a congratulation to Arielle.

"Hey! Tevy! Nice ta see you, man! Ohh an' Ari! Girl, congratulashun!" shouted one of the youngsters drunkenly. "Man, I ne'er see you around. Why dun you visit the Court anymore?"

"The Court of the Rogue?" I ask. "Man, I haven't had business with His Majesty in a while. And to be honest?" I leaned in to whisper, "He kind of creeps me out."

"Man, Master George is gonna have yo ear fur that." The youth said in a stupor. His head slumped backwards as a snore crawled out of his throat. The woman next to him moved his head to her lap and began petting his head. I didn't fail to notice the Templar's crest on the front of her jerkin.

I smiled and chuckled. Summersday was one of the only days where questions were not asked about strange occurrences amongst friends and enemies, especially the Templars.

I look over to see that Arielle had already beaten one of the youngsters at a round of darts. Apparently, they had bet steak specials and the youngster had begrudgingly handed her a few coins after Arielle hit a double bull's eye.

I picked up a dart, focused on the dart board. I squinted my eye in the amber light and threw my dart. The missile landed squarely in the center circle.

"Nice bull's eye….Tevy, right?" A voice said over my shoulder. I turn around and beheld a handsome young man standing a little too close to be a darts admirer. I gave him a look, up and down. He stood at six foot at least, a head above me easily, with auburn hair and emerald eyes. I took a breath as I took his whole frame in. He smelled of spruce and his clothes were spread thin on his broad body. His shoes were polished and he stood with a presence that was infectious.

"Yea. I'm…Tevy. How can I help a sexy beast like you?" I say.

His eyes size me up, taking in my features and eventually settles on my own. We both smile. His ruddy looks, and tanned complexion were illuminated in the tavern fireplace light.

"Can I not appreciate a good shot?" He asks with a smile. "Not many people shoot that straight and true, you know." He finishes with a smirk.

"Oh really now?" I ask with feigned amusement, my pointer finger tracing my lower lip with a sly smile. "To shoot this straight takes much practice and experience. I hope that you can keep up." I finish with a chuckle.

Arielle, who had returned with her winnings, another steak special, bursts out in a fit of laughter at my response while tugging my sleeve; trying to catch my attention.

I turn back to Arielle, and she is looking at me with amusement in her eyes.

"Arielle, yes, I'm almost done. Just another suitor I have to turn down. Don't worry love, I'll be right there to have another drink with you." I say to her.

Arielle looks at me with humored eyes, shifts her eyes to my tall, handsome friend, and cracks a wide smile. She considers him for a few seconds and then returns her eyes to me.

"Go." Arielle says. "He's been eyeing you all night."

"What?" I ask in surprise. "No Arielle. This night is celebrating you! I can't leave you. Besides, don't we have a Conclave that we have to prepare for?" I replied.

"Tevasta, when we're at the Conclave we're not going to have any contact with the rest of the world for an entire fortnight. You might as well have as much fun as you can have now." Arielle reasoned.

"You're such a bad influence." I shot at her as I drained the rest of my ale.

Arielle pinched me on the arm and made her way back over to the bar to talk with Amber. I looked over to the mystery man next to me.

"So, you know my name, and that I can shoot well…It's only fair if I know your name." I say to him, handing him a dart.

"My name's Gil." He said. He declined the dart saying, "I'm a pretty bad shot, but I am a stable hand and can ride a horse as well as any other man."

I chuckle at the course of which this conversation is going. I rest my elbows on the high table and motion to Amber for another round of ale.

"So…Tevy, how has your Summersday been?" He asks.

"Well… other than being harassed by Master Baker," I said with all the irony I could muster, "My day's been pretty good. My best friend…" I looked up to see that Arielle, who had finished her plate from her darts winnings, had ordered herself another steak special and was already halfway through it already. "Who is currently pigging out, got selected to be an advisor to the Conclave."

Damn, that girl could really put it away if she wanted to.

"And you?" I ask Gil. "How has your Summersday been?"

"Well, it is Summersday. The horse master let us have the day off to enjoy the festivities." Gil said with a smile. Arielle had finished her third plate and had ordered a dessert special. I shake my head while chuckling. She was not going to have to eat for another week.

I feel his arm over my shoulder. Gil had placed his hand around my shoulders and he pulls me closer. I turned to face him to find him looking at me intently. The warmth from his body and the softness of his tunic felt almost erotic against my skin. I take his hand and place it around my waist. I smile up at Gil, who smiles back and squeezes my navel slightly.

"And what brought you to the Mason Street Tavern? Being the town's most wanted thief and a former Antivan Crow wouldn't do you well to show your face here." Gil said as he nuzzled my ear and kissed the side of his neck.

I turned to him and smirked: "I live life on the wild side."

Gil smiled slyly and put his hand on my face. He pulls my face to his and locks lips and we kiss for a good few minutes. His lips are soft despite hours of work in the sun, and his strong frame encapsulated me in a cage of warmth and raw passion. I broke off the kiss gasping: "Let's get out of here. We can go to my place." I said. "It's not too far from here."

"I'd like that." Gil said as he hooked his arm around me and planted his lips on mine again. I moaned into his mouth as he grabbed my rear, squeezing gently.

I break the kiss off laughing. "Gods Gil, can't you wait?" I ask exasperatedly. Gil chuckles at how uncomfortable I am and I roll my eyes. I take his hand and quickly drag him to the Tavern's back door. We exit the Mason Street Tavern with Gil's hand in mine as we jogged in the crisp evening. The sky was black now, the stars just starting to twinkle and the moon bright against the dark backdrop. Despite night falling on Lydes, the festivities had just begun as pubs and markets prepared for the magic firework shows at night. We jogged around the busy streets where crowds had gathered, avoiding the crowded areas where tourists had gathered to get a good viewing spot. Down two streets and a right turn from Mason's Street, we arrive at the street where the apartment Arielle and I share is located. I fumble for the key to the lock, and Gil presses his body onto mine, kissing my neck repeatedly.

"Gil, stop" I chuckled. "You're distracting me."

"Well, hurry up then," Gil whispers as he nips my neck.

The key turned with resistance as we barreled into the living room, kissing like madmen. We managed to close the door as Gil started pulling his clothes off. What his clothes were hiding was everything I had hoped to find. I could see solid muscle lining his frame, giving his tall frame an athletic, almost bulky build. His back and shoulders were broad, rippling with every move he made. His neck was thick, accentuating the thick jaw that sat on his face. His arms, thick from working in the stables daily, reached down to his waist to start pulling off his pants, when I stopped him.

"Oh my gods, wait until you're in my room," I gasped.

Gil laughed as we hurried off into my room. I shut the door behind me and turn around to find Gil taking his pants off. I see that his butt is rounded and full, supported by massive legs and thick thighs. He turns around and my eyes widen. His penis is as healthy as the horse that he tended.

"No wonder you're the stable hand," I say while laughing. I pull my tunic up over my head as Gil walks over and undoes my trousers. Standing there, naked, we both take each other in, pushed Gil onto the bed. I strip off my clothing rapidly, throwing the articles of clothing around the room and I jump into bed next to Gil.

I feel his hand on my face as I lay down. He pulls my face close and I feel his full lips on mine. I breathe in as we kiss, smelling the spruce and raw lust on his body. Our hands like scavengers, search and explore each other's bodies feverishly. My hand travels down his torso; his, across my back. I feel the hard muscles of his torso and abdomen meeting my hand. Our tongues duel in a heated dance as the carnal desire between us shortens our breath. I break the kiss to gasp for much needed air and I sit up on the bed. Gil curls around me and kisses my neck, sending tremors of pleasure and anticipation down my left arm. I turn around and grab his shoulders and push him onto the bed. Pinned to the bed, he smiles up at me with a seductive glint in his eyes as he rolls over, and shoves me to the bed, pinning me down.

"Last I checked, I was the stable boy," Gil said with a devilish grin.

"Oh shut up and fuck me already, come on," I said hungrily.

I propped myself up and opened up the nightstand drawer and grabbed a small cube of bee's wax. I gave it to Gil who rubbed it over his penis.

I laid back down and felt the tip of Gil's member at my entrance. I shudder as he begins to push.

"I haven't done this in a while. Go slow," I tell him, my arm on his chest.

With that, Gil nods and pushes forward, stretching me open.

"Oh my gods," I moan, gripping the sheets, eyes closed shut from the mix of long forgotten pleasure.

My eyes roll to the back of my head as I see fireworks from behind my eyelids. I feel his hands on my torso feeling me up and down, tweaking my nipples.

He leans forward now, now that he has entered fully, kissing me on my neck.

"Fuck. You're so tight and hot," Gil says to me, his cheerful voice now gruff with lust.

"Oh gods, Gil, fuck me." I managed to groan.

And fuck me he did. Gone was the nice charming stud of a man at the bar; Gil was now a beast, ploughing away with no holding back. For the next few minutes the only sounds that were heard were the shifting of sheets, the groans and moans that escaped our lips, and the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh. His movements were fluid and practiced as we continued to fuck. The springs in the bed creaked in synch with our rocking as his strokes became deeper, and more frantic.

"Oh my gods, Gil, fuck… right there! Yeah. Oh!"

Like a dam ready to burst from too much pressure, I gasp, feeling the end coming soon.

"Gil- oh my gods! Yea! Almost there- Right there!" I manage to say between my moaning and groaning.

"Ahh! Me too! Fuck. I'm almost there." Gil managed through my moans.

His tempo increases I feel a rush of euphoria in my groin and I feel myself buck, arch my back, and bury myself in Gil's chest as waves of pleasure ripple through my legs, and my back.

"Gil! Oh, gods, Oh fuck!" I shout as climax overcame my senses. Like fire injected into my very nerves, the pleasurable spasms echoed through my limbs, curling me into a ball, hugging Gil tightly as he rammed himself deep into me with the guttural grunt of his release.

Panting, we stayed like that, him, remaining in me as we savored the blissful afterglow. I was absently caressing his broad chest with a finger while he was snoozing from the intense moment we had shared. Our sweaty bodies glistened in the moonlight that streamed through the window. I got up out of bed, carefully extricating myself from his arms and grabbed a towel to clean the mess that we had made.

In the bliss of the afterglow, the last of the fireworks had been fired, coloring the sky in a fluorescent, iridescent emerald. The stars, twinkling in the sky, were dyed verdant as the green fireworks that symbolized fertility and fortune exploded in the atmosphere. As I threw the towel into the laundry basket, I look over to see that Gil was awake now, looking at the same emerald sky with a look of innocence and awe. He turns to me, his eyes glitter like Antivan pearls, and a smirk is on his face.

I smile back at him, feeling as good as any on Summersday.

"Happy Summersday, Gil." I said as I climbed under the sheets with him.

"Happy Summersday, Tevy" Gil says with a laugh. I feel him kiss my neck and my back as we spoon in the bed. I feel his arms wrap around me, warm and muscly, and as the last minutes of Summersday passed, I fell into a deep sleep.


	3. The Grand Conclave

The Grand Conclave

9:41:2, Thursday, Dragon

The chiffon drape trails behind me like a lilac spirit treading in my wake. The sheer folds, silhouetting a set of slender legs. I float my way over to Baron Risha, leader of the nutmeg monopoly, and notorious slave driver. I lean against the wall, mango sati in hand. I catch his wandering eye with my own steely gaze. He smiles, engorged face and all, disgustingly arrogant, his double chin magnified. I smile, slyly, and, after a pause, proceed to walk towards the private chambers of his mansion in a slow tantalizing gait. I hear hurried footsteps behind me, trying to catch up. The bait has been cast. I open the door adjacent to me. An empty room in the private quarters. A fire is burning in the hearth. There are no windows. Perfect. I enter, leaving the door open behind me as I begin to unwrap the veil from my face. I hear wheezing and gasping behind me as a shadow obscures the light from the hallway. The door closes as I remove the sapphire drops from my ears. No words are exchanged. He thinks that I am hired entertainment. That, or a servant on break. Rookie mistake. I hear his panting from behind. I smell his musty stench and the wine on his breath. I gag, eyes screwing shut as my head begins to hurt. His grubby fingers with rings too small are on my hips, feeling the skin around my navel. I grimace, swallowing the urge to retch. My knife in my tefi is buried in the folds of fabric, unable to be freed. I fidget, trying to unwrap the folds of silk to allow me to draw my knife. I feel his oily stubble on the crook of my neck, and I close my eyes, barely stomaching the bile rising from my stomach. My hand claws at the sleeve, attempting to free the knife. Sharp stabs of pain attack my head as he gets comfortable. His stench is pounding my nostrils. His hand reaches down into the waistband of my chiffon wrap and his labored breath is on my neck. I bite my lip, feeling unbridled rage and fury course through my veins. I grab his wrist, and twist hard, flipping him. I slam my other palm into his elbow, snapping his arm. He screeches as he falls, gripping his arm and curling into a fetal position and with that, I rip my knife from the folds of my tefi. What was the left sleeve of the garment falls to the floor. I turn him onto his back and straddle him. He is gasping in pain, babbling pleas. I look down on him with contempt and pity. I grip his neck and shove his head into the carpeted floor, eliciting a yelp of surprise and more babbling. He grasps at my hand, trying to free his restraint, but my hand is iron against his throat. With his neck exposed, I lean in close, eyes and voice cold and icy:

"I was paid five hundred royals for this. But it's still not worth all the lives you've ended and ruined in your tyranny."

He is whimpering and crying now. A pathetic man. With that, I bring the knife up to his fat neck and I slash his throat deeply. A geyser of blood sprayed around the room, ruining the chiffon wrap, staining my tefi, dyeing my hands a deep crimson. The carpet beneath turns black as the blood pools around his corpse. An aroma of iron, and decay fills the room, and with the stench of his body came the unmistakable perfume of alcohol. The combination of all these smells stings my nostrils, adding to the migraine. I glance up to try and clear the episode of pain and I notice that the ceiling has not been spared. Flecks of red spot the ceiling of the ornate room, ruining the traditional Antivan mural painted above. The sour stench, the burning in my nose too harsh to handle. The pounding in my head intensifies, nearly incapacitating me as it spikes to a crescendo. I cry out, shutting my eyes. The flecks up above turn white as they emblazon into my vision. Stars at the back of my eyelids, the pain is a white light burning my eyes, like a supernova behind my lids. And…

I wake, the sunlight is hitting me square in the eyes, intensifying what pain I was feeling. I squint and bury my face into the sheets as the light pierces through the curtains and blinds me. I shut my eyes, trying to block it out, but to no avail. The iridescence of the summer sun glows amber against my field of vision, forcing me to face the reality of the choices I made last night, and the dawn of a new day. I inhale deeply, smelling nothing except burnt wax from the candle by the bed and the unmistakable perfume of sex. My head feels like an anvil was dropped on it while a lumberman split my head sideways. I raise my arms to my head to try and quell the pain, but to no avail. I hear the clamor of the shopkeepers and vendors outside, cleaning up the remnants of last night's firework show, and the commotion of customers haggling for the Post-Summersday sales. The cacophony pounds my eardrums like a myriad of explosions, deafening me. I squeeze the pillow around my ears to try and steal a little more sleep, but the drone of the crowds prevents me. With a groan, I turn over feeling a body sized imprint in the mattress, the covers thrown back. I bolt upright in a bout of confusion and panic, only to have my brain convulse inside my skull, throbbing and radiating lightning in my head. I gasp sharply, grimacing as I lay back down slowly. Did I bring someone home with me? What happened last night? I breathe in slowly, trying to remember the events of the night before through the throbbing. I lay there for what seemed like hours before the gong of the Chantry steeple bells gave me a rude awakening, signaling the midday hour.

I got up off the bed, groggy, head pounding, and walked over to the door. Opening it slightly, I peek around the corner and see Arielle in the kitchen, packing five bags while tending to four pots on the stove. Her humming is excited, energetic and festive as she pranced around the kitchen, stirring pots, checking the brick oven, and stuffing soaps and lotions into the bags in the foyer. Closing the door, I scan the room and see the clothes that I had taken off the night before. Walking over, I throw on the breeches and tunic from the night before. I glance over at the mirror hanging on the back wall and my eyes widen. Purple welts kissed the skin around my neck and the clothes I had thrown on were anything but clean. Oil and ale stained the cloth, making it look more like a table cloth than a ten royal tunic meant for celebratory occasions. I sigh, as I resign myself to the idea of taking a hot bath before making any other major decisions. I walk back over to the door, not ready to talk to Arielle just yet. Taking a deep breath, I open the door, careful not to make a sound. Tiptoeing into main hallway, I hear the humming and clamor in the kitchen stop. I freeze in my tracks as I hear shuffling down the hallway. Damn. I didn't want to have to deal with Arielle, at least not right now.

"Tevy? You awake now? Its midday!" her cheery voice rang down the hallway. I grimace. Her cheerful, invasive interrogation of the man I brought back yesterday would not be one I would enjoy, especially not with the migraine I was experiencing. I break into a sprint to the bathroom across the hall, in an attempt to attain some peace and quiet. I slam the door behind me, and lean against it. Latching the bolt behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief and lean on the edge of the sink.

I hear the handle on the bathroom rattle and I hear pounding on the oaken door. I bury my face in my hands and groan audibly. There were times when being Arielle's housemate was unbearable. Once an interrogation started, there was no stopping until you talked with her face to face.

"Tevy? Let me in! I have to talk to you! How could you do this? You left me all alone last night. We have so much to plan for the next week and you don't as so much as check in on me after talking with Gil? I was in the middle of my basil and cream custard when Sister Tauriel mentioned you were gone for about two hours at that point. TWO HOURS and I didn't notice. How do you think I felt? You didn't even think about how I was getting home! I had to stay over at Amber's place. She had to sleep on the couch! I thought you two went to go see the fireworks, not come home with him. And come on… Tevy you could have at least warned me. I come home in the morning and I see his naked ass running to the bathroom, no clothes on. I mean, congratulations and all. He's very built and uh… very endowed, but that's beside the point."

Up to that point, I had ignored her, unwilling to open the door and engage in any conversation. Her demands to be babysat always pained me and annoyed me like no other, but this was outrageous. Just because she got selected to go to The Grand Conclave in the next week didn't give her the right to be a snooty know-it-all. My already pounding head throbbed more and more as Arielle kept spewing crap from her mouth. I tried to ignore her to calm the pain; however, in response to that last statement, I felt a fire start in my fingertips that burned a wide reckless path to my chest. I barreled to the door, unlatched the bolt. Yanking the door open, I stared at her with brazen eyes.

"Arielle, shut up. Please, for the love of Andraste's tit. My head is hurting like none other and I just need you to not hound on me for at least the next few hours so I can shower and clean up. I don't need your snooty ass interrogating me when I clearly am in pain over here. Are you capable of that?" I practically shouted.

Arielle was stunned to silence and her mouth opened and closed for the next few seconds as she stared at me with an incredulous look in her eyes. I gave her a glare, sweeping my arms in front of me to point to the kitchen, ushering her away from the bathroom in a grand gesture. Her face settled on a perplexed frown as she turned away, heading back to her humming and prancing. I slammed the door shut, eliciting a splintering groan from the door. I slump against the locked door, the heat cooling off from my chest as I rolled my eyes at the mirror above the sink.

"Fuck. I can't even have a single moment's worth of silence, can I?" I ask my reflection. I stood there for a few moments, collecting my wits and my composure before deciding to move. Standing up, I slap my cheeks slightly, waking myself up.

I walk over to the bath, turning the knob on the spout located on the wall. Hot water gushed out, filling the tub with clean, hot water. The water began to fill the basin. I check the temperature of the water before I walk over to the cabinet in the corner and pull out a few jars containing soaps and cleaning solutions. Balancing the jars in hand, I walk back over to the tub and set down the containers on the edge. Steam rolled off of the rippling water as I bend down to take a bucket from the corner of the room and fill it with hot water from the bath. I set the bucket down and begin to disrobe. Stripping down, I fold the breeches and tunic carefully before soaking them into the bucket of hot water. I open two of the jars and pull out a handful of lavender pods and a few cubes of cinnamon bee's wax with which I drop into the bucket containing my soiled clothes and also the bath itself. I climb into the tub, relaxing as the hot water began to wash away the exhaustion and grime from the previous night away, and also soaking away all of the stress and pain of the morning. Within seconds, the warm, pristine aroma of the soaps fill the room, as the clothes in the bucket and I soaked away. I close my eyes, as the exotic spices and calming water lulled me into a state of neutrality as my mind wandered off with the trailing steam.

9:32

"Trevelyan!" her voice cut through, "Put your sword higher, you're not going to hit a Tevinter with that stance!" I perk up and stand at attention, raising my arm to fulfill the order.

"Alabaom," the voice continued. "Stop snickering, your technique wouldn't impress a blind princess much less me! As for you, Arafel, stop glaring at Trevelyan. If you want to bed him or kill him, do it when you've graduated. Besides, you're too small and young to do either at the moment. And you, Rinzfeld. Stop staring off into space. There are no stars in the skies, only the sun. If your parents wanted you to be a mage, they'd have sent you off to a damned Circle by now. Pay attention! None of you are getting so much as a wink of sleep while you're on my watch! Now drop and give me a hundred!"

And drop we did. No one questioned Lieutenant Tari or risk her wrath on all of us. She stood at four foot eight, and weighed less than an Antivan paperweight, but she was as tough as a Ferelden water yak. She slept with a blanket of daggers and a padded helmet as her pillow. No one won an argument with her, and no one wanted to fight her, either. And despite being a lieutenant, she was considered a high ranking official with smarts to back it up. Many a general asked for her opinion and professional advice in times of crisis or adversity. She had a philosophy: That every Templar was no better than the one next to him, and if one of you screwed up, all of you did. She ruled the Academy with an iron fist and we were the better for it. Not a single recruit was overlooked, not a mistake too small for scrutiny. Many a successful Templar trained under her tutelage and many a Templar owed their lives and careers to her. The four of us were nobles' sons, bred from luxury and sophistication. The only paths allowed for us were a life in law or the life of the Templar. Clearly, the four of us were not interested in reading scrolls for the rest of our lives. So here we were, first day trainees in a special tutoring camp before we were allowed to join the other recruits who were going to be drafted from the countryside in the next autumn. Here, we were the soft uncultured ones who had a whole world of knowledge to learn. We had already woken up at the crack of dawn for morning training and conditioning. The sun hung low

We knew the routine as we began the pushups. One. Two. Three. Sweat rolled off our foreheads as we did our pushups, the hot Orlesian summer sun beating on our backs. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. The grass was rough and smelled of horse urine from where the riding classes had taken their steeds this morning. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. The stench was unbearable, seeping into our clothes and our pores. Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. We could hear Lieutenant Tari in the distance somewhere, shouting at us, warbled and muffled. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two. I could see the Lieutenant's shoes in front of me, kicking dust into my face. I could hear myself about to convulse, a hacking cough building up. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. Hundred. With a gasp, we collapsed onto the ground, embracing the moment's worth of rest and relaxation even if it meant lying in the stench and the filth. We coughed and panted like dogs in the heat, breaths ragged as we struggled to our feet, knees wobbling, and arms weak.

"Get up, now, recruits. I didn't come here from Val Royeaux to teach a bunch of sniveling idiots. Get up now! If you can't push a hundred out and be ready to face an army, then I haven't done my job. Now, five laps around the manor grounds."

We looked at each other in exasperation at the impossibility of her order, our eyes widening with surprise. Arafel opened his mouth to protest, but Lieutenant Tari cut in, with her razor sharp voice.

"Oh no, you do not look at your commanding officer with that face. And Arafel, you do not get to question my orders. Your job is to listen and obey. For that, we'll make it ten laps. Chop chop! Let's go! If I don't see you by sundown, I'll lock you out for the night. You all can sleep out here in the Orlesian wilderness for all I care."

With that, Lieutenant Tari turned curtly towards the manor and left us, sweating and heaving, in the setting sunlight. Rinzfeld, Alabaom and I gave Arafel a scathing look, angry that he had angered the Lieutenant. The four of us proceeded to lumber off towards the east entrance of Ostwick Manor, stumbling and struggling to put one foot in front of the other. Our heads lolling in front of us, fixated on the path ahead as one by one, we began our long trek, the dusty path lined with the footprints of thousands of Templars who came before.

9:41 Three Davys before The Grand Conclave

Like a crash of lightning, I was awakened rudely to a booming sound. The sound of the front door slamming had woken me in a fright. Bolting up, I could hear Arielle's hiking boots stomping off into the distance. I sigh, cold water dripping off of my body. Clearly, my reaction to her was uncalled for and unnecessary. I would have to apologize to her later. Sitting back down in the cold bath water, I look at my hands lazily wanting to enjoy the last moments of not having any responsibilities. My fingers were wrinkled and looked like sun dried prunes. I grimace, clearly having slept in the water for too long a time. I stand up, twisting my neck left and right to relieve the ache of sleeping in the tub. Looking out the window, I see that the sun is now at its peak, midday. Reaching over to grab a towel, I realize that the pain in my head was gone, a testament of the lavender pods performing their duty. I unplug the drain as I rub dry my chest and arms, watching the aromatic bath spiral down into the pipes below. Stepping out of the tub, I bend down to touch my toes, popping a few spinal joints in the process, stretching out jammed muscles from my impromptu nap. I groan as my body protests, resisting my attempts to align my body again. Remaining in the same stretched position, I dry off my legs and feet. After my toes had been dried, I stand up again, the ache in my body not as bad. I open the cabinet in the corner, putting my towel with the rest of the soiled clothes in there. Turning around, I bend down and pick up the bucket with the clothes from this morning's soak. I take the clothes out from the water, wring out the water, and string them out on the wire hanging on the back wall of the bath. Satisfied with the work I had done, I turn back to the cabinet and grab a set of clean garments and don them.

Emerging from the bathroom I could immediately tell that Arielle had left in a fit of anger. The kitchen was a complete mess. The smell alone could kill a herd of bison. Burnt matter sent an acrid smell through the room, bitter and pungent. The pile in the sink was as tall as I was; filled with basically every piece of cookery and dish we owned. The floor was greasy from what appeared to be a spill of one of the pots. I walked over to the stove and saw that it was going to take a lot more than soap and water to get the burns off of the stone. Refusing to clean up after what that girl had put me through, I turned around and went to my room where I began to start packing my things for our trip in the next few days.

9:32

The four of us collapsed at the outer gate of Ostwick Manor, exhausted, sweaty, and tired. The sun had set hours before we were done, and for three of the laps, we ran in the Orlesian starlight. Beautiful as it may have been, we barely looked to the sky. The sheer length of each lap eclipsed any and all motivation to appreciate the celestial fixtures. We sat there for a good hour, shivering and chattering as we garnered up what reserves of energy we had left.

"F-Fuck. Tara w-wasn't kidding. We're stuck out h-here for the night." Alabaom cursed.

We sat there, dumbfounded at our predicament. After a 10 league run and we were stranded in the Orlesian wilderness, forced to fend for ourselves for the night. We weren't ready for this.

A twinge of panic set amongst all of us as we looked at each other. The color drained from our faces, leaving an empty husk of panic and resignation. This may have been summer, but the nights in Orlais were still cold and unkind. We knew that not only would we have to fight the cold, but we would have to scrounge for food, defend against animals, and most importantly, find water. I looked up in the sky, searching desperately for the Silentir constellation. As my eyes raked the night sky, I stopped at a light emerald star twinkling near the East. I traced the stars that composed the constellation, searching for the apex point of the star cluster. Finding it, I motioned to the direction the cluster pointed towards.

"That way is n-north," I said with a quiver. "We'll roam towards the East; that way we can f-follow the rising sun if we n-need. A-Alaboam and I will start a fire, Arafel and R-Rinzfeld, you try and find some food." I say decisively through my chattering teeth.

The four of us nod, scared and determined. Wordlessly, we all stood and began hiking up the hills to the plains behind the manor. The once welcomed breeze that cooled us off during our run was now frigid and bone chilling. We huddled and hugged each other to harbor against the cold, as we broke off into pairs and began to scrounge. Alabaom and I searched around, for firewood and dry kindling. The aching in my knees persisted as a dry hum in my legs, droning a chant of exhaustion and weariness. My legs gave out, dropping me into the damp earth. Wincing, I began to dig a pit in an attempt to construct a fire pit. I could hear Alabaom's labored breaths as his head crested the hill. He is carrying a load of lumber and kindling. He collapses with a huff next to me, dumping all of the contents in his arms into the makeshift pit I had dug. I dig out a small knife and a flint shard from the pouch at my side. I strike the flint with the knife. Sparks fly onto the wood, illuminating the both of us with a weak amber light. The heat around my fingers is warm, singeing the nail and skin of my thumb. I strike again, the accompanying flash illuminating the creases of weariness, the streaks of exhaustion, and the bags under our eyes. A small flame catches onto the kindling underneath, frail and solitary. I lean down, closing my dried eyes, blowing onto the flame softly. Like a small child learning to walk, slowly, the flame catches and spreads, eating up the sun dried lumber with a greedy hunger. Thin ribbons of acrid smoke trail into the sky like dancing ghouls, marking our position to the other pair.

"Alabaom…" I started, turning to face the other youth.

"Roderick." The youth whispered, almost inaudibly.

"What?" I ask, unable to hear his response.

"It's Roderick. My name is Roderick from House A-Alabaom." He managed, burying his head into my shoulder, as a new breeze picked up. The flames in the pit danced as the harsh, icy wind blew down from the Weyrs, setting the shadows behind us dancing and leaping. We huddled against each other, shivering, our faces drying out in the heat of the fire, and our backs freezing from the frigid winds.

"Alabaom…Roderick. Where's Rinzfeld and Arafel?" I ask warily, looking around. "I haven't seen them since they left to go search for food and water."

"It's only b-been about a half an hour… let's build this fire higher so they c-can see where they n-need to head towards."

We stand, huddled around each other, arms wrapped across each other as we walked around the forested clearing, looking for any dry lumber or pieces of wood to use for the fire. The bright moon did little to light the forest, but the shadows of the trees and rocks around us were stark and intimidating, long and exaggerated on the hillside. Wandering aimlessly with only the live fire behind us to mark our position, we set forth into the forest. The process was slow, painstaking. The soles of our feet were numb and painless despite walking on rough terrain. Our skin was alive with gooseflesh and our breaths were white wisps against the black Orlesian sky. In the warm glow of the fire, we were pale and violet, almost blue. As we picked through the shrubbery and scavenged the forest floor, we heard rustling in the distance, the sounds of scuffles and resistance towards the South. We heard snarls, barks, and human shouting. An unearthly scream pierced the calm night, setting aflight a flock of ravens. We look at each other, the amber flames echoed in each other's eyes as we turned to the direction of the sound. The sticks and bundles of lumber fell from our arms as we ran to the South, towards the Vimmark Mountains. There was no feeling as we ran towards the foot of the mountains, fear paralyzing rational thought and physical sensation. We both knew what that sound was, but we didn't say a thing so as to admit that the possibility was real. We broke the forest line and as trees thinned out to grassy fields; we froze, the gnawing feeling of horror hollowing out what spirit we had left.

9:41 Two days before the Grand Conclave

"For fucks sake, Arielle, wake up!" I shouted viciously. "Master Dinel is here to load our bags, get your ass down here!"

From the foyer I could hear a startled yelp and a succession of shattering clangs as a few unfortunate pots and pans were assaulted and flung to the kitchen floor. I roll my eyes in disbelief. Had she pulled another night in the kitchen? I knew she cooked extra for the families in Lydes that were having a difficult time, but this was insane. We were leaving by midday and she hadn't finished packing her bags.

I see her shadow tumbling into the foyer and what I beheld was a sight most hilarious indeed. Her hair was, well… a mess, to put it in the least. Bits of food flecked her apron and I'm sure those age spots on her face were grease stains. Flour caked her breeches, and her feet were caked in whatever junk littered the kitchen floor.

We made eye contact for a few seconds, my condescending gaze, scraping what juicy gossip I could from her unbecoming appearance. She blushed a violent crimson as she stuffed a huge parcel of food into one of the five already engorged bags lining the wall. Scurrying off, I could hear the water in the bath being filled as Master Dinel came in.

"Dinel! It's been so long," I exclaimed, embracing the burly man. "I haven't seen you and your beauties since last Moon's Festival. Where have you been?"

"Well, the ol' miss got sick with the shivers three moons ago and the new foals be kickin' 'round the stable too loud. Usually, she cares for the yung'uns while I tend to the mares but the healer tole her to rest up, so I got stuck with 'em all." Master Dinel dusts off his breeches, looking back at his mares fondly.

"Well, Dinel, why don't you come on in and I'll pour you some tea. I know that you and your wife raise some of the most beautiful mares and fearless stallions in Orlais." I said, ushering him in and hanging up his coat.

"Ahh, ye give me too much credit, Tev," Master Dinel scoffs, despite the proud twinkle in his eye. "I'm told this blasted Conclave needs the best representatives from our village, but sounds like I'm just a blasted wagon driver, heh?"

"Yeah, I know Dinel, this job's a hassle, but at least it'll pay well." I stated.

I make my way to the kitchen, with Master Dinel in tow. I open the door and see Arielle over by the sink, now in her Chantry stole and habit. The room smelled minty and there wasn't a speck of grease or oil anywhere. I glance over at the stove and see that the burn marks were now absent. The monstrous pile in the sink had disappeared, and every surface of the granite counter was shiny and completely cleansed.

Arielle turns around and completely ignores me, moving onto Master Dinel.

"Master Dinel, thank you so much for transporting us to the Temple. I know this is a lot to ask, but I'm so glad you could do this," she said in a giddy, excitable voice.

I roll my eyes. Her unnatural, uncanny habit of looking like crap to me and on a dime seem overly presentable to others, annoyed me to no end.

As Arielle continued to gab on, I walked over to the cabinet, looking for tea leaves and a pot. Grabbing the kettle on the stove, I poured in some dried orange rinds, dried embrium leaves, honey, and water. I light the firewood under the stove, setting the kettle on top and returning to the table.

Arielle is incessant; lecturing Master Dinel on the differences between Chantry sisters and the Monks of the Maker. I see from his partial smile, his shifting legs and his raised eyebrow that he is clearly not interested with the discussion at hand.

"The Monks of the Maker don't have as many dut-"

"Dinel!" I interjected. "I haven't yet greeted your beauties. Why don't we go outside and feed them some treats. I specifically got them Ferelden golden apples, their favorite! Also, thanks to Arielle here, we have triple the amount of bags we should have."

Dinel gives me a glance of appreciation and thanks. We get up, walking outside as I grab the apples from my room.

Jogging to the front door, I see that Arielle is leaning on the front door, livid and annoyed.

"Asshole." Arielle shot at me.

"You're going to The Grand Conclave. Wash your mouth out. With that mouth, you'll start a war with the Templars and mages saying anything." I shot back as I nudged her aside, opening the door and stepping outside.

Slamming the door, I saw the four gorgeous horses that Dinel had brought with him. Dinel was already talking with his horses, petting them each in turn with the care a father would his child. The crunch of my boots on the gravel announced my arrival to which the horses stirred excitedly.

"Oh my gods, Dinel, they still remember me!" I exclaimed.

"Of course they remember ye, dolt. Ye spoilt them many a time when they be foals." He said blandly. He walked back towards the wagon in the back, adjusting the rigging and straps.

I walked up to the chestnut mare, clapping her on her back; her auburn pelt soft and smooth.

"How are you doing, Solus." I petted her snout affectionately, offering her an apple with the other hand.

She whinnied and butt her snout into my palm, licking up the apple. She looked at me with crystalline eyes, sparkling with recognition.

The grey mottled stallion behind her tossed his head, impatient and frustrated to meet me.

"Lauf! Stop giving Solus a hard time." I chastised him. He shook his head in response, huffing his annoyance and trying to bite the apple out of my hand. I give him the apple, not wanting to lose fingers in the process.

I look over to see a midnight black stallion, still and stoic.

"I didn't forget about you, Istalri," I whisper to him as I walked over.

He leans his head into my arms, sniffing and huffing before straightening up to butt my shoulder affectionately.

"Here you go," I told him, handing him an apple.

The last horse was pure white, not a spot on her.

"Vind, you little darling! I missed you." I say to her. She practically jumps up and down, shuffling her hooves and tossing her head with a neigh. I burst into laughter at her excitement, holding her reigns and calming her down.

"Here you go, you crazy horse." I say to her, handing her the last of the apples.

As Vind munched happily on her apple, I look over to see how packing was going. I could see that Dinel had placed all of our bags in the wagon, and was about to gather some last minute materials before heading off. Arielle stepped out of the apartment with another bag, of all things, and climbed into the wagon.

"Are ye and the lady ready to go?" Dinel asked.

"Yeah, we're pretty much ready." I sigh, not wanting to leave Lydes so soon. The Summersday festivities were officially over, but there was still partying dotting the city if one kept their eyes peeled.

"Arielle, where are we picking up the four other people again?" I ask her, inquiring about the four other sisters that were going to join us to The Grand Conclave.

"They'll get here when they get here." She shot at me.

I rolled my eyes as I climbed into the wagon, taking out a book from my knapsack, The Fifth Blight and propped my legs up onto the opposite bench. First come, first serve: I could take as much space as I wanted to. The other four were at a loss for coming late.

As the new summer's evening sun streamed into the cabin, the horses were urged on, trotting at a slow pace, headed towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. A full night of travel was ahead of us, through the Dales and the Frostback Mountains. I opened the book at my lap, trying to pass the time by reading. As the wagon rocked its way to the edge of Lydes, the evening sun lanced through the wagon, illuminating us in a burgundy beam. Lavender and lilac kissed the sky, swathing a stretch of it with the evening glow. Fireflies were awakened, lighting the shaded bushes as we left Lydes towards The Imperial Way. As I began to read, the words themselves seemed to dance in the vernal sunlight, lulling me into a relaxing sleep.

9:32

We had all heard stories of the Blights of Thedas. Some of us were children born during the last Blight. We had heard ghost stories, old wives' tales and the motherly threats of night crawlers if we didn't eat our vegetables. We studied the histories and the old texts about these evil monsters, studied their appearances, their tactics, their biology. But nothing…nothing prepared us for what we saw in that clearing. Something was hunched over, lean, tall, and twitchy, taking hops towards Rinzfeld and Arafel. The thing barely made any imprint in the grass, as if it were standing on long stilts. In the moonlight, we could see the outline of a cloak that rustled and twitched every second, a long neck that wound its way towards the two, and a disfigured head, oozing pus. In its jaw, a set of jagged teeth that snapped at the two tauntingly, and in each hand, a long thin knife that reflected the white light of the moon. Rinzfeld and Arafel were against the boulder cliff, separating Ostwick Territory from the Waking Sea. Their eyes, transfixed on this bird like creature, their fear palpable and evident all over their faces. Despite all the courage they could muster, the presence of this darkspawn had drained what willpower they had gathered. Their eyes pleaded with anyone that could see to come and save them.

I couldn't move, I was stuck, staring at this monstrosity of a beast. I knew that if I didn't do something quick, Rinzfeld and Arafel were doomed to a painful death. However, time seemed to stop, my body disobeying any and all commands I had given, as fear settled in. I closed my eyes as the winding head gathered close to the two, baring its teeth. Bracing myself for what horrors were about to occur, I tried to shut out what was going on.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" a voice rang out, shattering the eerie suspense. I flung my eyes open to see what had become of the two, only to see that the bird like creature was wounded. Rinzfeld and Arafel were as surprised as I was. Two arrows in its right eye had it writing in pain. It screeched a high pitched scream as it turned its head to us, blasting out my right eardrum. I unfroze, looking over to Alabaom and seeing a bow in his hand, his fingers bleeding from the impact of the arrow's release. A furious snarl snaps my eyes back to the beast, its blades bared in each hand, his advancing head like that of cobra. His mouth opens again, screeching, making both Alabaom and I fall to the ground, clutching our ears. I cannot hear what is happening but somewhere in the din, I hear Alabaom cry out in agonizing pain and the shouting from Rinzfeld and Arafel. The screeching gets louder and shriller, burring into my brain. A white hot nucleus of agony blooms in the center of my arm, radiating up towards my shoulder. I open my eyes to see its face is mere inches from mine, the black ooze dripping onto my face, and one of its knives is buried in my arm.

I am screaming. My voice uncontrollably yelling. But no sound is coming out. I cannot tell whether it is my ears or my voice that isn't functional. The pain is too much. I roll to my side, to try and curl into a fetal position and nurse my wounds and I realize too late that I had just rolled off a hillside.

I am tumbling now, through rosebushes, thistles, cacti, and large ferns. The wind is knocked out of me as a large palm trunk stops my fall, slamming my back into its branches. I gasp, winded and wounded. I struggle to my feet, and look up the hill I had just fallen down from with a look despair. Some 50 yards now separated me and my friends and not enough time to get all the way back up. I cannot hear a thing. I raise my hands to both ears and discover that both ear canals are bleeding, completely ruptured.

Crawling my way to the foot of the hill, I try to climb its semi-steep slope, but to no avail. The pain that radiates from my back and the damage to my eardrums is too much for me to maintain balance. Splayed at the foot of the hill, I began to lose consciousness from the loss of blood, and the extensive wounds.

Alabaom. Arafel. Rinzfeld. I'm sorry. I thought we'd be able to make it through together. That last thought trailed off as my head hit the grassy hillside. My eyes drooped and closed, my body shutting down from the pain and destruction that it had experienced.

9:41-2 days before the Grand Conclave- Late Night

I woke, book, covering my face, body splayed over the bench. The cold air nipped at my exposed body, forcing me to sneeze twice. Shaking off the sleepiness and exhaustion, I look around, searching for answers. Arielle gives me a glare and rolls her eyes as she steps off the wagon.

"What are we doing? Where are we?" I ask. Disoriented and confused.

"We be picking up the other four chaps. They were visitin' a small community four hours from Lydes. They said they would meet us up on the Imperial Way. Now get up Tev, and help me with these darned lanterns. Horses can't see too far in this here nighttime." Master Dinel stated.

I hopped off the wagon, spotting a group of four hiking through the agricultural fields towards us with torches for light. Taking out my flint and steel, I strike a flame onto the wick Master Dinel held out. With the flame lit, he circled around the wagon, lighting the lanterns that hung in the front and back.

The party of four had made it to the back wagon, and were now stashing away their luggage. Walking over to them, I stick my hand out to greet them.

"Hi, I'm Tevasta, Arielle's escort. It's a pleasure to meet you." I say.

There are two women; one dressed like Arielle, the older, had different robes, and the rectangular habit characteristic of Mothers.

"Ah. You must be the thief Master Baker is so keen to put away," the Mother stated tritely with no emotion. She extends her arm as well, grasping mine and shaking slightly. I blush and divert my eyes briefly.

"I am Mother Arabella and this is Frindyel," she states; motioning to the man next to her.

"A pleasure to meet you." I say, shaking hands with Frindyel as well. He nods, acknowledging my greeting with a grim face.

Frindyel climbs into the wagon, stretching a hand to Mother Arabella to help her get in.

I look to the other duo, and I see that Arielle is speaking animatedly to the other sister in hushed tones.

I walk over to the other female, dressed in sturdy clothing for the trip. She turns to face me, extending her hand.

"Hi! I'm Naya, Sister Clarice's escort. Is it true that Master Baker put a bounty on your head?" she launches.

I extend my hand, chuckling and smiling.

"Well met, Naya. I'm Tevasta…your local thief," I add for good measure.

She chuckles, easily amused as the four of us make our way to the wagon. The lanterns are lit now, providing a dim glow to the interior. Frindyel, Sister Clarice, Arielle and Mother Arabella are closest to Master Dinel. I see that he is adjusting his seat, whispering words of encouragement to the horses. I climb up the steps of the wagon and take a seat next to Mother Arabella, picking up the book from the bench. Naya sits across from me, crosses her arms and goes to sleep, nuzzling her head into Frindyel's shoulder.

"Ahh, The Fifth Blight," Mother Arabella says forebodingly, looking at my book. "My grandmother lived to tell the tale of that story. I do believe Master Kifpher interviewed her for this particular book. May I see?" she inquires tentatively.

"Of course, Mother." I state, closing the book and handing it off to her.

Master Dinel has urged the horses on, causing a minor jolt amongst the passengers

She caresses the cover with her aged hands, as if finding something long forgotten. As she opens the cover, she leafs around the book for a while, gazing at the illustrations with fond nostalgia. She stops on a page with an illustration of an Archdemon on one page. Her slight smile hardened to a flat, thin line, devoid of emotion. Her finger traces the lines of text on the opposite page, slow and deliberate.

The wagon goes over a bump in the road, lightly jostling everyone inside. Naya stirs, but remains asleep. Mother Arabella turns to me, motioning to the line her finger sat on.

"3:12, Towers

'The Fifth Blight was an atrocity. The streets were full of shades and wraiths. I saw friends, family succumb to the oncoming wave of darkspawn. I saw a man ripped in two, pleading to Andraste to deliver him. Darkspawn, flaying him alive, eating his entrails while his voice cried to the heavens. I still have nightmares about him. I hid in my home, a protected little flat on the second floor. My husband, my little Aiya and I hid away, making no noise so as to attract oncoming darkspawn. My neighbors were smart and barricaded the staircase from the first floor to the second. We helped each other cope with the gore that had painted the streets. We broke bread and shared food. It was three days of darkness and silence before the Grey Wardens arrived. We were running low on food and supplies. The Grey Wardens came and saved us, yes… but at what cost? When you are the only force that stands between humanity and The Blight…well it gets to your head. The most frightening of events happened not between darkspawn and human, but what happened between the Grey Wardens and humans.'"

The wagon tilted slightly as The Imperial Way turned towards the East towards the Dales. By now, all but Mother Arabella and I were asleep, heads lolling to the rhythm of the horses' trot.

"Mother… I didn't know that you…" I began.

"It's quite alright, Tevasta. Just know, my dear boy, that where we're going, peace may not be the ultimate result. The disease of greed and selfishness plague many, even among the Chantry. Be wary." Mother Arabella stated.

Her haunting words brought back memories I had but tried to suppress. Memories of a time long ago began to fill my head. Shaking my head slightly, I try and forget, yet again, but her words echoed even as I closed my eyes to sleep.

Eve of the Grand Conclave

"Tevy," a voice whispered next to me. I inhale sharply, squeezing my already shut eyes even tighter. The crisp mountain air, awakening my consciousness and pumping my blood faster. I register that this is the first time Arielle has spoken to me since the incident back in Lydes. Slowly, I opened my eyes, turning to face Arielle, remembering all the frustration and anger she had caused not too long ago. Expecting to hear an earful of her nonsense, I scowl my face, readying myself for the barrage. However, when I gazed at her, she no longer read of anger and frustration. She had a partial smile on her face as she gazed outside the wagon. Her eyes were wide, full of wonder and awe as she pointed to the sight she saw outside the slit in the wagon's sheets. I looked out to where she was pointed and was met with an overwhelming sense of humbling awe.

The repurposed Temple of Sacred Ashes stood before us in all its majestic grandeur. We were a couple leagues from the Temple but even from this distance, one could still see the sparkling marble pillars, the opaque obsidian monoliths, and the consecrated Alexandrite statues of Andraste and the Maker. Mosaics spanned the lengths of the temple's exterior walls, depicting the history of the Chantry. As the rising sun crept over the horizon, the light diffracted off the millions of gem shards in these mosaics and sprayed a kaleidoscope of optical wonder. Red from Ferelden dragonstone, green from Free March jade, blue from Antivan sapphires, and sparkling white from Orlesian diamonds. Like a gem in the middle of a mountainous graveyard, the temple sparkled high above the valley floor. Like the Earth presenting its most fit offering to the gods above, the temple was hugged and propped by arms and hands of granite and obsidian, as if Mother Nature herself wanted to indulge the gods personally. We stared for what seemed like hours at the temple in the mountain pass, not minding the shaking of the horses, nor the cramped quarters, nor the undisputed fact that we had been traveling for two days straight with little restful sleep. All those things seemed insignificant in the wake of what majesty and wonder stood before us now.

"I think I've died and gone to the Fade," I whispered silently. The pure ethereal aura of just the temple's exterior driving me to a spiritual place. I was calm for the first time in ages, eased of the pettiness of everyday life. Nothing was important in the presence of what stood before us.

Arielle glanced over at me and we locked eyes. We both smiled and shook our heads. We reached across the wagon to hold hands for a bit, squeezing each other's fingers slightly, and smiling even broader. As we turned back to watch the view outside, the sound of the wheels slowing down and the horses whinnying announced that we had approached the main gates of the Temple. We got up out of the wagon to talk to the two guards at the gate.

We both stretched, working out the kinks of a two day travel as we approached the two guards posted on the sides of the gilded entrance.

"Statement of Purpose!" shouted the guard on the right. He was stocky and stout, the gilded armor on him giving him a foreboding air around him. His partner on the left was slightly taller, but just as built, his armor accentuating the massive bulk of muscle that he was.

"We are from the Chantry in Lydes. Sister Arielle and her escort Tevasta; Sister Clarice and her escort Naya; and Mother Arabella and her escort Frindyel. I am Master Dinel, horse master in Lydes. We request permission to enter as representatives of Lydes for the Grand Conclave." Shouted Master Dinel.

"Present your official invitation." The guard on the left said flatly.

As we each in turn, presented our invitations, the guards took a great deal of time to authenticate each of our transcripts. All the while, interrogating us on the purpose of our stay and the length at which we were planning to remain.

"Do you have any weapons on your person? If so, present them. All weapons are prohibited on the holy grounds of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. We will return them to you when the time is due." The left guard stated.

One by one, the Chantry Sisters and Mothers turned over their personal weapons, the guards silent.

As I moved up to the guard, I removed the knives from my sleeves and boots, scabbards and all. Frowning slightly, I turned them over, handing them to the guard on the left. Sleeping without a weapon was going to require getting used to. I looked over and saw that Arielle had done the same with her bow and quiver.

As we were cleared by the two guards, the two behemoth gates began to open. The enormous gilded panels slid inward as we climbed back into the wagon. As the horses were spurred on, we passed the threshold of the Temple's entrance.

We took a steep left at the fork, as we headed towards the living quarters that were separate from the Temple itself. Inside the Temple grounds, we were met with more wonderful feats of Orlesian technology and design that made us gape in absolute wonder.

The grounds were fashioned after the gardens in Val Royeaux, with gigantic mosaic floors depicting Andraste and the Maker; rose bushes with every color of bud imaginable; the brass braziers that dotted the grounds every few hundred feet or so; and most spectacular of all, the malachite statuary and marble fountains that dotted the area. All this and the vast selection of aromatic trees around the area gave an ethereal, almost alien feel to the whole area.

As we approached the living quarters, we saw how enormous they actually were. The architect clearly had safety and segregation as his predominant theme here. The architect had built the living quarters in an enormous man-made ravine, requiring the descent of each participant down a decline into this makeshift valley. I saw two parallel lines of cabins stretching each length of the ravine. One parallel stretch of cabins were clearly occupied by the Templars. The armor and shields that were lying about glinted in the early morning sunlight. An anvil or two could be seen with a smith manning the station as well. On the other side, we could immediately tell that the mages set up camp in this parallel strip. The braziers that dotted each entrance were ablaze with every color of flame possible. Like a stained glass window, the cabins on the mage side sparkled every color of the rainbow. And not surprising, lying directly in the center of the ravine, was a square tent, about 500 feet long and wide where we saw Sisters and Mothers from every denomination across Thedas were gathered. The different colored silk tassels at their belts were the only way to distinguish between each other. As our wagon turned the corner in the decline, we could hear the bustle of how busy the living quarters actually were. From the hammering of armor on the anvil, to the animated discussions held by the mages, to the chanting and administration of rites by the Chantry members, the hustle and bustle of the living quarters reminded me very much of Market Square in Lydes.

We stopped near the Chantry tent, the horses whinnying their exhaustion and need for water. Master Dinel unhitched the horses and brought them over to the central trough where they began to drink voraciously.

The rest of us in the wagon climbed out, heading to the back where all of our packs were and began to carry them to the tent.

"I'm going to go see where we sign up to show that we are present," said Arielle to me, "Do you mind bringing my stuff to the cabin?"

I look at her with an exasperated face, looking down at the single bag that I had, and over to her five engorged monstrosities of luggage. I turn back to Arielle to protest, only to see that she had been making her way to the main tent.

"Are you serious?" I shout after her. "I'm not the one who brought the circus to the Temple. And besides, you're not allowed to wear anything other than your Chantry uniform. Why did you bring so much clothing?"

"Those aren't clothes!" I heard her shout over the din of the living quarters. "It's all food!"

I stare at her, as my jaw drops. All five bags were food? Well no wonder she was cooking for so long the day before we left. I turn to look back at the bags, I could see that Naya and Frindyel were rolling on the floor, cackling up a storm at what had just transpired.

"You know, one of these days, we're going to have a rat infestation and a breakout of the plague you know!" I shout back.

Arielle does not hear me as she begins to talk with other Mothers from different districts.

I shake my head, clearly unimpressed by her decision to bring five bags of food. No wonder the horses were struggling so much during the entire trip. They could smell good food and couldn't get to it. I sigh, uninspired to unpack what clearly was a feast fit for ten. I grab the five behemoth bags along with my own and start to trudge towards the cabin complex. I open the door to our complex and see that there are six beds laid out for us: three for the Sisters and Mother, and three for the escorts. There were two rooms to this cabin: one with all the beds, and the other with a kitchen, sink, and other utilities. I drag and plop off Arielle's bags on the bed in the far corner. I collapse on to the closest bed, exhaustion and drowsiness overwhelming me. The Chantry Bell clangs three times announcing the afternoon rites and as the monotonous drone of shuffling feet towards the Temple ensued, silence engulfed the living quarters. The now distant shuffle of arduous worshipers sounded like a lullaby, carrying me aloft a cloud of dreams.


	4. Undeserved

Undeserved

9:41

Friday

I sit in the plush armchair, the velvet molding around my body. The soft fabric is warm and soft, enveloping me in a blanket of comfort. I prop my elbows on the armrests, and proceed to massage my temples. The cold wind from the open window, streams in, cleansing the stench from the putrid corpse. My eyes are closed, avoiding the dead baron's gaze. A strong gale rolls into the room, making the thin drapes dance in its wake. Papers ruffle as books and documents are blown around in the small gust. The crisp smell of mountain snow and pine trees floats into the room like the aroma of lit incense. The soft howl of the wind is accompanied by the lyrical hymn of the papers and pages as a soft knock echoes from the door in the corner. Without warning or bidding of welcome, the knob turns and clicks as the door is pushed in. There is no warning of this newcomer's approach as suddenly, without delay, a purse is slid in front of me. I do not move, as the presence of this newcomer has not alarmed me in any way.

"Five hundred royals, as promised." The warm, deep voice of the newcomer said. "Our client sends his regards and his thanks. He also pays his compliments for finding such a beautiful tefi."

I raise my head, the ache slightly better and reach for the envelope. Gripping the leathery pouch, I heft the weighty pouch as I look towards the newcomer. His figure is silhouetted against the pale autumn moon, revealing only a muscled, wide frame, and long flowing hair.

"He was here tonight?" I ask, genuinely intrigued.

"He was. Count Shinrah thanks you for the hard work.

I open the pouch to see the stack of gold coins in the purse. I shovel out the coins, inspecting them each in turn.

"You know," the newcomer's voice said, "you are not often this sloppy with your kills. What happened to infuriate you so?" He asked, pacing around to walk around the desk to stand behind me.

My fingers pause in their counting as my eyes switch focus from the royals to the person in front of me briefly. I conceal the panic in my eyes with an ease of practiced conversation.

"It was nothing," I said dismissively, my fingers continuing the monotonous process of counting coins. "He put his hands on me and I lost my cool for a second."

He notices the brief pause in my counting and senses the brief pause of hesitation.

"Oh really?" he says ominously, slowly pacing his way around the table. He leans in close to my ear, and takes a long sniff. My breath is stuck in my throat, fear hollowing a pit in my chest. "And this…has nothing to do with it?"

He caresses a strand of my white hair lightly, sending shivers down my spine. I jump, agitated, clearly disturbed and whirl around to face him. Nothing. Nobody is behind me. I turn back around and see that he is crouched over the corpse of the baron, his smile illuminated by the rays of moonlight. He stands slowly, walking towards me again.

"T… oh poor T, don't you ever learn? You can talk to me about these things, after all, I am the king of thieves. If I didn't know these things, what kind of thief would I be?"

His arms drape lightly over my shoulders, bringing me in into a one-sided embrace. He kisses my cheek, and walks over to the window. Draping a leg over the side, he turns back to me.

"Oh, and T?" he asks. "Be a darling and clean up this mess please. It'd be terrible if someone pinned this all on you now would it?"

And with that, he was gone. Having jumped out the window, he left no trace, the only thing left to prove he was here were the goosebumps on my arm from his intrusive salutations. Stuffing the coins back into the pouch, I walk over to the corpse and all I see is blood. It had stained the entire floor a deep rich plum, making the design of the carpet unrecognizable. The whole floor seemed to be swallowed up in its clutches, as if the abomination that was the baron was now everywhere in the room. Bile rose into my mouth, the unmistakable nausea washing over me. Paying no attention to what I had on, or if any blood was stained on me, I fled the room, the door slamming behind me in a loud thunderous clap.

A concussive sound echoed through the living quarters, jumpstarting my heart and making me jerk awake. The leisurely nap that I had taken was rudely interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed loudly and the unmistakable sounds of fighting from a cabin next door. A group of four or five people were animatedly speaking, shouting almost. I rolled over to grab another pillow to try and silence the noise, but to no avail. I groaned, extremely annoyed, as the squabbling seemed to get closer and closer to the Chantry tent.

'For fucks sake, couldn't anyone get a few hours of sleep without interruption?' I thought.

As the voices became more distinct, I could identify the Divine Justinia's voice, but the other voices surrounding her were new voices to me.

"Having mages here unchecked, human or not, is not the wisest decision, Most Holy. I cannot condone the thought of having…them roaming free even if we are here to talk peace. We merely want to ensure your safety and…"

"No. I will have no further discussion on this matter." Divine Justinia said flatly.

"This is precisely how the war started in the first place! You Templars and your hubris; you think you can keep us locked away in towers for the rest of our lives? We deserve the freedom of life and the ability to live as we see fit!

"Your quarrels are not pertinent to thi-"

"Enough." Divine Justinia's voice cut through. "I will hear no more arguments. All of you are here because of my personal invitation. This is a peace summit with the aim to perpetuate peace amongst all races. The main problem we must deal with is the war between mages and Templars, yes, but the repercussions of interspecies diplomacy is an essential tenet of this summit. Please. Have patience, and have civility. This is the first time in ages we've had a peace summit of this scale. We have a full fourteen days of deliberation to achieve all of our goals. Now, if you will excuse me, there are issues that require my attention. Good day."

I could hear Divine Justinia's footsteps as she marched away.

A few seconds passed before a string expletives, obscenities and cruses were professed almost consecutively as the different parties dispersed, their hurried footsteps, waning out to a small murmur in the background.

'Great.' I thought to myself. 'Not only am I stuck here in the mountains for the next week, but I have to watch my step around dignitaries from every side of the mage/Templar conflict. Who knows what kind of war I could start with a misdirected joke or snide comment.'

I rolled over, to stare at the ceiling of the drab cabin, marveling at how fascinating the cedar planks of the ceiling could be when boredom set in. When Arielle approached me to be her escort for The Grand Conclave, I never thought that I would be stuck in the mountains in a field of bear traps with every interaction I commence. Damn Arielle and her lucrative ways of getting what she wanted. Leave it to her to exaggerate just how grand this Grand Conclave would be. She could sell you a fennec and convince you it was a halla, and ten years down the line, you'd still be convinced.

I dragged myself out of bed, not wanting to sleep for the entirety of the trip while smelling the awfully delicious food next to Arielle's cot. Oh, how I wanted to open up a bag and dig in, but if I knew Arielle, she would have my head on a pike if I ever touched any of the food she prepared without her permission. She had the memory of an old seer and the temper of an angered dragon.

'Well,' I thought to myself, while sitting on the edge of the bed, 'I should probably pay a visit to the Temple Proper while I'm here. Besides, I have to get the lay of the land if I'm going to do any body guarding around here.'

And with that, I pushed the door open, heading out into the living quarters to find my way down to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

9:32

The harsh summer sun bore down on me, waking me from my tortured sleep. Pain and aching had plagued me the whole night keeping what little sleep I could get away from me. Not wanting to face the reality of my situation, I keep my eyes shut, attempting to fall back into an unstable slumber. The memories of the night before had not left me. They hung over me, like a shroud of steel, weighing down what little hope I had left in my heart. The ghost of the screeching bird-wraith still burned in my memory, reminding me of my deaf state.

The light, harsh and intense, made ghosts of light dance in my eyes. Blinking furiously, I open my eyes, the summer heat sending waves of warmth, distorting the images I was seeing. A silhouette of a wing flashes before my eyes. Half expecting the bird creature to be crouching over me, I instinctively cringe, shutting my eyes tight. I attempt to raise my arms up in defense, but my body will not listen to me, the pain overriding all commands. I stayed like that, eyes closed shut, lying helplessly on the ground, for what seemed like ages. The only sound I could hear was the pumping of blood, the quickening of pulse, and the shortening of breath as fear gripped me. When no new fatal wound was inflicted, I opened my eyes slowly again: grass, embrium, elfroot, Orlesian tulips, Arbor's blessing, oak trees, and a sparkling lake. The bird that had frightened me was on a low hanging branch, hopping and fluttering around a nest of slumbering chicks. My eyes glanced over each chick, envying their uninterrupted sleep. Their miniscule, fluffy, sapphire chests quickly rising and falling to the tempo of their mother's fussing. In the periphery of my vision, I could see the mountainous slopes of the Vimmark Mountains. Their snow white peaks glistened like polished glass as the summer sun reflected off the summits. I blink my eyes again, trying to process this dream-like fantastical vision in front of me. For a brief moment, nothing seemed to be at fault. Nature was thriving at her own pace, welcoming in the vernal sun and the Eastern winds. However, I inhale a deep breath, trying to clear my head from the dull ever present drone of ache and pain being sung in my head. I was met with the rancid odor of metallic blood. I gag, trying not to trigger anything too violent. A memory of the beast's teeth and oozing black pus flashes across my memory, making me shudder. All-encompassing pain, radiating from…everywhere held me captive, preventing me from raising my head or moving my body. The waves of fear and disgust the darkspawn memory had conjured left me breathless as every part of my body ached and stung. The clothes I wore were caked in blood, stained a dark black from the wound in my upper arm. I prop myself up, my body protesting immediately. My right arm gives out easily, the wound screaming out in desperation. I collapse again, on my left side, cradling my right arm.

"FUCK, Aaahhhhh," I hiss, scrunching my face in agony. There I laid, ankles twisted, back bruised blue, and right arm punctured with a deep wound, panting from the radiating pain and the thirst that had plagued me since the night before. The throbbing came in waves, resonating with the aching in my lower back, nearly sending me into another black out. I bite my lip, hard, so as to keep myself awake. Wetness snaked its way down my chin to my neck.

'Am I going to die here?' I think to myself, 'Is this The Maker's way of punishing a lazy pompous asshole like me for doing nothing these past years?'

Time escaped me as I laid as motionless as possible, trying to stay conscious. As the waves of pain ebbed, I managed to slowly drag myself to a nearby apple tree, and sat up cautiously against its trunk. I take my shirt into my mouth and rip a thick strip of cloth using my teeth and my left hand. Gingerly, I manage to loop the strip under my right arm and tie a knot over the wound in my right arm, stemming the now, trickling flow.

I wipe the sweat and blood from my face, panting and struggling to stay awake. The exhaustion and weakness was overpowering my will to stay awake and alert. My eyelids droop, threatening to close as sleep beckons to me, her warm arms embracing my weakened limbs, inviting me into the warm light. The hypnotic drowsiness pulls me under, relaxing all my spasming muscles. My head lolls, back, as I lapse temporarily into the void, only to hit my head on the tree behind me, jolting me back into reality. My eyes fly open and a splash of crimson paints my vision. Curvy, glistening apples, like ruby drops flecked with the midday's kisses cross my vision. They are hanging low on the branches of the tree, tantalizingly close, but just out of arms reach. I smile weakly at the irony of the situation.

'What a bastard,' I thought to myself. 'The Maker makes the cruelest of jokes sometimes."

I scrunch my face in effort, summoning what energy I had left to throw my left arm up in an attempt to swipe an apple. I miss, my fingertips inches from the luscious fruits.

I laugh, loudly, the sound sounding more like a rattle than a chuckle. I blink. My eyelids are heavy. Sleep has become impatient, her temper flaring out hard. I open my eyes one last time. The last thing I am able to see is the red Ostwick apples hanging above the trail of my own blood. The thick curtain of my eyelids droops, as I freefall into a deep sleep.

9:41

Stepping outside of the cabin, I inhale deeply. The crisp mountain air drove away the drowsiness I felt after the nap, making me feel refreshed and alert. I yawn widely, stretching my arms above my head, working out the cramped joints and muscles from my few hours of slumber. My eyes, squeezed shut, shed tears that well up and blur my vision. Wiping them away with my sleeve, I begin to stroll around the living quarters, turning my head this way and that, looking for anyone who might have been going to the Temple Proper. As my boots crunched on the dirt and grass, I scanned the living quarters thoroughly. The almost desolate place was silent, the usual hum of conversation and activity was gone. Most of the inhabitants had lingered around the Temple Proper after the afternoon rites. The anvils and smithies to the north were unmanned and silent, the braziers and campfires in the south were unlit and unused.

Only a few of the people had come back to the living quarters, making the scene before me a little lonely, to say the least. Frowning slightly at my predicament, I try and reorient myself so as to try and find my way to the main temple. Looking around, I could see that while the Conclave was a meeting of peace and restoring order, there were signs of a battle already starting to brew. Scorch marks peppered the southern fields where mages had been practicing magic unattended by the Templars in the North. There, weapons were being polished and ground into perfection.

Smiling slightly, I look at my dusty boots, shaking my head slightly. The grand scale of this whole convention was getting to me. From being personally invited by one of Divine Justinia's advisors to finding myself in the middle of century-old warring factions, I became very aware of how small I was in comparison to the events happening around me.

With that sobering thought, I continued down the gravel path, a concerned look plastered on my face. My right arm was outstretched, touching the Crystal Grace lining the path on either side of the path. The turquoise blossoms and violet anthers were swaying in the wind, creating an ethereal mirage of lavender waves in the breeze. The sweet and crisp smell like a waterfall's icy aroma mixed with the fruitiness of a fresh spring plum blossoms. I inhaled deeply, eyes closed, smiling at the pleasant aroma that wafted from the blossoms. Though the path to the Temple Proper was a good mile and a half, time seemed to stop as I strolled my way there. At least for now, the sweet exterior was palpable and able to hide the bitter and complex webs woven underneath.

The cobblestones that paved the path morphed slowly into polished marble, the peach, white, and slate hues flecking the smooth stone. As I tread on the now smooth polished surface, the road widened into the Temple grounds. Hedges and rosebushes populated the square, the crimson and orange blossoms joining the lavender chorus of the Crystal Grace. The inhabitants of the living quarters were now gathered here, socializing and talking. I could see Templars off to a corner speaking quietly as did the mages in a separate corner. The only group spread out evenly were the Chantry Mothers and Sisters. Their entourages were intermingling, conversations abounding in pleasantries and light-hearted conversation. I could see the Temple Proper on top of the hill now, and what a grand sight to behold. This pantheon to the Maker and Andraste was a huge structure, spanning nearly a league in length and width. The entrance alone looked like it cost a fortune. Four pillars of solid white marble supported the gilded entablature. Each pillar was four hundred feet tall. The entablature that sit on the pillars was a grand piece, a triangular capstone standing on top of the pillars, embossed in rose gold. From the edges of the entablature were figures of demons and wraiths, minions of the Blight, their clawing hands and festering sores vividly sculpted, climbing over each other, reaching to the figure in the center. The object of the demon's fascination was none other than Andraste herself, crowned in an aura of light. In one hand she held a shield, and in the other, she held a ball of fire. She was clad in a sheer cloth, baring her features and the Maker's mark on the center of her chest. The demons closest to her shielded their eyes, their faces contorted in pain and agony.

I stood there in rapt silence, as I took in the enormity of the monolith before me. The rest of the world blurred away as I stood transfixed on this grand architectural phenomenon. The din faded in the background, and my eyes tunneled into the only sight my fascination was drawn to. My eyes stung and tears began to well up as I stood there in rapt awe.

Suddenly, I felt a swish of lightness on my arm as a figure waltzed by me, their flowing robe, grazing my arm. I ripped my eyes from the Temple, watching as a lithe hooded figure seemed to float by me. Her robe was silky and white, streaming with the wind, weaving with the breeze, just like the Crystal Grace in a hypnotic dance. She turned her head slightly, revealing locks of silver hair that cascaded down her head. Her eyes were hazel woven with emerald, and her smile was warm. Her skin was luminous, white almost. Her eyes seemed to pierce into mine, her gaze electric and binding. Her jawline was very pronounced, the arched line climbing and ending with an angled ear. In her left hand she held a hefty package wrapped in parchment. The wind blows another gust, exposing a knife belt with multiple sheaths belted to it. Time seemed to freeze as we locked our eyes, unable to break the shared connection.

"TEVY!" a voice exclaimed behind me.

I ignored the voice, unable to take my eyes off of the figure in front of me. The wind picked up yet again, the breeze kissing my face, and forcing me to squint. The figure's white locks of hair bounced in the wind and danced about, obscuring her face. Her smile deepens, a light pink coloring her cheekbones. Her hand rises to her face, to hold back her hair back as she closes her eyes, in amusement. Her eyes open again, and she turns back towards the temple again, and continued to float away.

"TEVY!" the voice rang out again.

I ripped my eyes from the entrancing figure and whirled around to see Arielle pink in the face and huffing incredulously. Her eyebrows were knit in her version of a pout and sweat was beaded on her forehead. I look at her, gazing up and down in confusion at her exhausted state.

"You know, I leave to go do the Afternoon Rites for half an hour and I lose you for a whole half a day! Where were you?" she asked incredulously.

I look back towards the Temple, scanning the many faces in the Temple grounds, unable to find the hooded figure in white silk. A second passed as I tried to desperately look for the woman.

"Tevy, what do you have to say for yourself? You know you have to arrive earlier to get your uniform. And who are you looking for? You only know two people here and the one you know best is interrogating you right now!" Arielle exclaimed.

"Uhh… Sorry, Ari, I got lost on the way here." I said nervously, trying to brush her off. "I just wanted to pay my respects to the Maker and make an offering."

She looked at me, scrutinizing my half smile, trying to analyze the true motivation behind my words. Seeming satisfied for the time being, she continued on with the discussion.

"Well alright," she said, deciding to let the matter drop. "The incense is in the drawer on the left, next to the golden brazier, and the candles are over by the cabinet next to the banners…"

As we walked together towards the Temple, the long lecture from Arielle seemed to fade into the distance. The sea of habits and stoles was endless as Mothers and Sisters from all over Thedas were speaking in a hushed drone. I scanned the crowd thoroughly, trying to catch a last glimpse of the hooded woman. But nothing met my eye except the blur of red and white habits and stoles as I began the trek up the Temple stairs.

9:32

I was conscious, barely. Locked in a prison of an unmoving body, I was aware of everything happening to me, but I couldn't say anything or move. It was as if I was encased in glass, just watching everything that happened to me.

I was lying down on my stomach, chest bared. I was being prodded by multiple fingers and instruments all along my arm and my back. The slight twinge of pain and cold metal made me twitch a few times, jerking my arms and fingers ever so slightly, like a desperate involuntary cry for help. Hurried footsteps echoed in the room, distorting how the number of people I could perceive in my pitiful state. Hushed whispers were heard throughout the room, some of disgust, some of pity and sympathy. I could hear the unmistakable sobbing of my mother, and the worried tone of my father.

"How could this have happened," my mother manages in a whisper. "The Ostwick Plains aren't supposed to be dangerous."

"I'll ask Lieutenant Tari when she comes back from her reconnaissance mission" My father says in a low voice.

"Healer, h-how is he? How is my boy?" My mother managed through the choked sobs.

"Lady Travelyan. He's lost a lot of blood. I don't know how long those wounds have been festering, but I need to tend to your son's wounds. I do not suggest that you remain here, Lady, this could take a while and the procedure could prove to be…graphic." The doctor replied. A pause.

"Darling. I'll stay behind and watch for the both of us. Please, head back up to rest." A deep voice, one of serene authority, my father's.

I hear the ruffle of skirts and petticoats, the swish of silk fabric, and the unmistakable clack of high heeled shoes as my mother stands to leave the room. I hear her mutter to my father, her sobbing reaching a crescendo as she rushes out of the room. The sounds of her sobbing grew softer as she hurried down the hall. Silence filled the room as all the attendants and present parties waited out of courtesy for the Lady to make her exit. The doors shut, the booming sound resuming all frenzied activity within the room.

"Get me some embrium and death lotus. Now. I need to fix his arm and then his back. He's been bleeding internally for a full day now. I don't know how long he's going to last." He says to another person in the room. Hurried footsteps. The doors are flung open, the echoes of the wood slamming the wall reverberate through the manor. The healer puts his hands on me again, feeling the areas of damage and surveying the depth of my wounds.

'Has it been a day? Damn. Time moves slowly when you're dying.'

I feel someone's arms on my body, rolling me over to my back. Pain lanced through my hip as my leg unconsciously convulsed and connected with someone's face.

"AHHH. Come on! Hold him tightly. I don't need him seizing as I'm trying to heal him. Seriously…"

I am on my stomach now. Vulnerable and exposed, I feel the clothing being removed from my body as hands are run down my back. Prodding. Poking. The dull ache of pressure radiates from my back as people are shuffling around me constantly.

"Ok. We're going to begin. We have to sew up his internal bleeding and fix any organ damage. Let's begin."

I feel a cold metal razor tickle the hairs on my back. The light pressure from the healer's hand stabilizes the blade and applies pressure. As the cold light sensation evolved into heated stabs of pain over the entirety of my back, I lost what little hold on consciousness I had and slipped back into the welcoming arms of darkness.

9:41- Friday

As we made our way up the marble steps, the true grandeur and splendor of the Temple revealed itself. From the four pillars towering over us, to the true detailing on the entablature, the entire building seemed ethereal and otherworldly. The landing at the top of the stairs was just as breathtaking. On the walls, the gemstone mosaics were mounted, exhibiting a kaleidoscope of colors and hues, each as radiant and exquisite as the next. They depicted the creation of the Chant of Light and the genesis of the Templar Order, the victorious Wardens over the Blight and the indoctrination of the first Circles. The granite braziers were lit with a white flame that danced in the reflection of the gems, bringing the mosaics into life. The actual entrance into the Temple was fifteen feet tall, flanked by oaken doors half a foot thick. As we made our way into the Temple's interior, I was again, pulled into rapt silence as the design of the interior captivated my awe. On the far left wall that faced the West, an enormous collection of shelves were angled towards the wall, holding endless volumes of books. I could see a many a scholar leafing through the pages, or unfurling scrolls from the collection. The entire wall was made of stained glass, the multicolored display vivid against the floor. On the right, facing the East, the incense burners and braziers were alight, with many worshipers and disciples gathered around the furnaces, praying and presenting offerings to the fragrant flames. Many of the people gathered were Chantry Mothers, their practiced hands tending the flames and leading the chants. As we walked down the main aisle towards the altar, I stretched my hand to touch every pew that lined the aisle. I could see that there were three columns of pews, with four walkways separating them. Each was tiered slightly lower than the next, making it seem like an auditorium more than a temple. The varnished maple wood shone in the descending light, their honey finishes glinting in the afternoon light. Looking up, I saw a dome, at least five hundred feet up, lined completely with glass so as to allow the sun to illuminate the interior. Being as it was late afternoon, the sun's luminance was hovering right over the western wall where the vast collection of books were.

"You know Arielle, this place must have cost a fortune to build. How did they get the money to do it?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of the visual spectacle.

Arielle giggled slightly and leaned in and whispered: "There's a reason Empress Celene is still in power and supported by the Chant, you know."

With that, I broke into unabashed guffawing, my laughs echoing off the floors and walls. Arielle punched me hard in the arm, her face bright with amusement. I looked around to find that everyone in the Temple had stopped their activities and were looking at the two of us in incredulous disbelief. I stood there, apologetically, attempting to regain composure of myself. A second passed before the Mothers restarted their chants and the scholars went back to their leafing of books.

I looked at Arielle with accusing eyes, as she shrugged in a matter-of-factly manner. We continued walking up to the altar, pretending that our little faux-pas didn't happen.

We both knelt at the altar, bowing our heads and saying our prayers. A few moments passed as we both offered our prayers.

In those seconds of silence, a cold wind seemed to drift across the room, as if a whisper of a breeze were let in. I open my eyes to see the tail of a silk white robe flutter by me, and the unmistakable sheen of locks of white hair bouncing in the wind. I stand, quickly and turn around, trying to find the woman I kept seeing. Nothing. She is nowhere to be found. As I turned back around, trying to get her out of my mind, a whisper drifts into my ear, crystal clear above the din of the chanting Mothers.

"He is coming. Beware."

A chill ran down my spine, making me shudder and convulse. I turn back around but no one is there.

"What's wrong Tevy?" Arielle asks, her inflection mirrors the concern and confusion she feels.

"Nothing." I say dismissively. "I just haven't been feeling to well lately. It's probably the altitude."

"Well if that's the case, then let's go, you have to prepare for tonight's opening statements from the Divine. Every delegate will be present."

And with that, I was shooed towards the door back to the living quarters to prepare. I put on my nice clothes: a fitted white shirt and beige breeches. With my laced boots, I was more than ready for this peace talks to start, but apparently, "getting ready" was Arielle's definition of a military operations. The next few hours were a blur to say the least, with people bustling about, and papers flying left and right. I could see Chantry mothers mitigating and breaking up fights between mages and Templars. Tempers flared as fires had to be put out. Literally. Mages were setting fire to Templar cabins and Templars were doing the same to the mages. I saw a few fist fights being initiated near the Chantry tents as the people standing in line to talk to the Chantry mothers became impatient and pushy. And if that weren't enough, Divine Justinia was nowhere to be found in the living quarters, so the free-for-all was ready to erupt into a full scaled war. If the talks weren't held at a temple I swear the scene I experienced would befit a battlefield more than a peace talks.

A few hours into the pandemonium, an unspoken ceasefire was reached between all parties, resulting in the general shepherding of all the delegates from the living quarters to the Temple grounds. Albeit, the trek took more than two hours, all of the delegates were able to find and fight their way into the Temple proper. Of course, being the last one in, I able to see just how divided this whole meeting was. Each group had their own column of pews reserved for themselves. Just like the living quarters, the mages were separated from the Templars by the Chantry Mothers and Sisters in the middle. At the very front, I could see Divine Justinia V, in all her sagely demeanor. While the general din was charged, electric, and chaotic, all it took was her approach to the main altar that silenced the entire congregation present. As the full moon began to slip into place, the rays of light beamed down through the glass dome and settled on Divine Justinia in a serendipitous flourish. She looked around the room carefully, taking in everyone's face in great detail. She paused, took a breath, and began to address the entire congregation gathered:

"Welcome, to each and every one of you to the repurposed Temple of Sacred Ashes. I am Divine Justinia V, the leader of the Chant of Light. A century of war has torn us apart. Across Thedas, the war between mages and Templars has rent this continent into a fragmented land. Families have been torn apart, civilians terrorized and the very fabric of our society put at stake. Our world has now seen the gifts that the Maker has given us as a bane to existence, the pinnacle of demonization. This Conclave is the first step of many towards a peaceful resolution. The abuse of power has become rampant and the system we currently have is deficient. Change must be implemented. Remember, we must all sacrifice for the betterment of our world, and it starts here. It starts now."

A general applause swept through the room as The Divine took her seat. A general air of peace radiated through the area, however, it did not last long as the delegates began to bring up motions and bicker about prospective actions. As the general din rose to a roar, people began to stand up and shout at each other from across the room. The Mothers and Sisters and even the Divine tried to quiet the mob, but nobody stopped arguing as the crowd grew into a chaotic mob. I made eye contact with Arielle as the shouting became deafening and I motioned that I'd be outside. She nods, understanding my message. As I cracked open the oaken doors to step outside, the cool air rushed in, clearing my lungs from the stuffy sweaty air from inside the temple.

I stepped outside, and closed the door behind me as quietly as possible, not that it mattered. Taking a deep breath of cool evening air, I stretch my arms out to release some tension from my back. I look up at the sky and marvel at the starlit view. Down in the city, one can't get a view this clear of the stars.

I felt a familiar breath of air on the back on my neck. The familiarity sent shivers down my spine, forcing me to duck my head and cringe. Whirling around, I saw the woman with white hair and the silk hooded robe.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?!" I scream at her, partly from fear, partly from surprise. "Why are you haunting my dream? And why are you haunting me in my every day?"

She floats there, hovering just above the snow, her silver hair streaming in the wind. Her eyes stare right into mine, unchanging.

"Who are you? Why are you here?! What are you doing to me?!" I scream again.

Her face is motionless, staring directly at me. Ragged breaths rack my chest from the uncertainty and fear this figure instilled. A few seconds pass, the silence awkwardly hanging in the air.

She raises her arm slowly, pointing behind my shoulder right at the moon.

"He is here."

9:32

The sunlight from the bedroom windows streamed in, illuminating the entire room. Despite having my eyes closed, the rosy glow of light shone through my eyelids, beckoning me into the reality of pain and recovery. I open my eyes and I could see bandages everywhere. From my arms, to my feet and back, there were enough bandages to wrap around Ostwick Manor twice. Wincing, I try and move my arms, which are wrapped tight, only to elicit a pang of pain in my back. I hear the sound of the door latch click open as the healer walked in with my father.

"…His recovery seems to be making good progress. We did not expect his wounds to heal so quickly. When we operated on him, we patched up a lot of the major bleeding and the procedure was successful, with any luck, your son should be able to begin walking today." The healer said.

"What of Alabaom?" my father inquires, his voice steely and quiet.

"We… do not know Master Travelyan, his condition is graver than your son's. We believe that he may have been poisoned by the Blight wraith. My team is with him now caring for him."

I shift, slightly, not wanting to disrupt their discourse, but Master Healer missed nothing, as he saw my attempt to reach for the pitcher of water.

"Master Travelyan. Your son is awake. I'm sure you'd like to see him now."

The two men approached the bed, each concerned in their own way. The healer proceeded to check every inch of my body, prodding and poking, while lifting bandages here and there, while my father decided that the best course of action was to begin an interrogation of what transpired in the woods two nights prior. The result was an invasive questioning session peppered with wincing and gasps of pain here and there.

"Why didn't you stay near the manor? You know the foundations were blessed against the Blight," my father posed.

"Father, we had to find food and firewood. The wind was strong enough to freeze any of us in that night and there wasn't any to be found near the manor." I replied.

"Don't get smart with me, son," my father's voice boomed, "If you were this smart as you are now, you would have known that the forests to the north hold more food than the forests near the Vimmark Mountains. Son, if you had paid any attention at all during your tutoring you would have known that!"

His voice echoed through the room, his anger as palpable as the bulging veins in his forehead. I look down, hiding my livid face as he continues his rant.

"And splitting up? Whose stupid idea was that, son? Yours?" my father pressed.

"Master Travelyan, please, your son is traumatized and needs to rest. I'm sure under the circumstances, he made the decisions he though were logical and the best for everyone in the group. But please, sir, we must let him recover. We can have this discussion later when he is fully healed" the Master Healer interjected.

"NO. Stay out of this, healer. This is between me and my son. If he is to inherit my estate in the future, he will learn the lessons I deem required regardless of what he decided was 'right.' So son, tell me, was it your logical thinking that thought splitting up was a good idea?" My father pauses, clearly waiting for an answer.

I still avoid eye contact, trying to keep all of my emotions collected.

"We had to find clean water fast, as well as build a fire. The best wood is in the south, near the Vimmark Mountains and my plan was to split the jobs so that we could finish the jobs easier and focus on survival," I manage to say, hiding the building rage and exasperation behind a neutral voice

"Well it wasn't a good idea was it? Because of you, the counts of Arafel, and Rinzfeld are up my ass because YOUR decision killed them. You and Alabaom are the only survivors and Maker knows how long Alabaom is going to last in the condition he's in right now. If I had any sense, I'd disown you right now." His booming voice hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.

My father whirled around, his cape unfurling in full volume as the clack of my father's boots echoed through the room. The door opened and slammed, leaving me with the healer alone.

"I'm sure your father is just very agitated right now. I'm sure he didn't mean it," the healer said cautiously as he lifted more bandages and applied more ointment.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as I tried to fight back tears of shame and disappointment.

"Arafel, and Rinzfeld… are dead?" I whisper. Emotion burst forth as I was unsuccessful at holding the tears back. "And Alabaom is going to die from poisoning?" The last question triggered something in me, making double over and lose my breath.

The tears were endless now, streaming down my face. I bite my lip, trying unsuccessfully to contain my emotion.

It had been only a few weeks of knowing the three, but we had experienced so much together, and we had become close. Knowing that my decisions had killed them all was too much for me to handle.

The healer sighed, slightly patting my arm in sympathy. I looked at the healer, beseeching him for an answer, searching for solace that would never come: "Healer, tell me, they're dead because of me, right? Arafel, Rinzfeld, Alabaom…Roderick. They're dead because of me…right?"

The healer shifted, uncomfortable, unable to answer. But that was answer enough for me. I closed my eyes, dry sobs racking my chest, as the unspoken confirmation buried the hatchet into my heart. I curled up in the bed, burying my head into my knees as the healer got up and headed towards the door.

"I'll let you have some space, Tevasta. Try and get some sleep, though. Your wounds were extensive and requires you to rest."

His soft padded footsteps tread lightly as he made his exit. The double mahogany doors shut quietly, leaving me alone with my dry sobs and the foreboding silence of accusation.

9:41

I spin around, able to catch the shadow of a winged creature fly overhead. Its speed was incomparable, flying so fast for me to only catch a glimpse of it. A screech pierced through the evening sky, rippling through the mountain pass. I turn back around, confused, a myriad of questions burning my mind. My heart is pounding, completely locked into terror as I run towards the entrance to the temple. Yanking the double doors, I run inside to warn the delegates.

"We have to run! A demon is here!" I shout, half expecting the arguing delegates to not hear a word.

The entire hall was silent, everyone peering through the dome above the temple to see the dragonoid shape hovering right above the glass. Time seemed to freeze as the dragon-like figure remained hovering there. None of the delegates seemed to understand or comprehend the amount of peril they were in.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? RUN!" I shout. In the next second, all pandemonium broke loose. People climbed over each other in an attempt to get to the main door. Pews were knocked over, book shelves were toppled as the exodus of people began. Templars, mages, Chantry; none of the distinguishing markers meant anything as people flooded through the doors. I stepped aside and ran to the West wall of the temple as the horde of people stampeded out of the antechamber. I was running around trying to get a better perspective of the dragon-demon. It was at least a hundred fifty feet in length, mottled black with skeletal features. Its wings were bat like, leathery and scaled. Its head was at least twenty feet long, its skeletal structure defining its brow and jaw with ridiculous detail. Demonic horns branched from its skull, angling back and arching towards its wings. As it hovered in the air, each wingbeat sheared against the temple, creating a harsh grating sound against the temple's stonework. Like a deadly heartbeat, the scraping sound beat continuously, the wind from its fallout creating snow flurries around the temple. Between its first and second spine, I could see a humanoid figure sitting on a saddle. It seemed to have an elongated figure, its arms disproportionately longer and his torso disproportionately elongated. His head was covered with crimson shards of stone that reflected the moonlight in an ominous way.

A sharp splintering cut above the chaotic clamor, drawing my attention from the dragon-demon. Gazing down, I could see the faces of scared, terrified people beating against the stained glass Western wall. Backing up slowly at the enormity of the people behind the wall, their faces were distorted, like a kaleidoscope view into hell itself. Again, the splintering sound was heard, as a visible crack crept its way along the wall. I turned and ran towards the nearest tree or bush as an explosion of sound echoed and the Western Wall blew out. Colored glass flew everywhere peppering the ground as the waves and waves of people poured out of the Western Wall. People were climbing over each other, trampling each other, clawing, and shoving people in their attempt to escape. Yelps, cries, shouts, screams, and curses flew around the temple as the dragon-demon turned its head towards the Western Wall. My eyes widen as I see the figure point its finger at our direction. I turn and sprint as fast as I can to find cover. Launching myself over a boulder, I glance back. The dragon-demon's mouth opens and a crimson flame leaps from its mouth. Evaporating the mountain snow instantly, I could see many people engulfed immediately in the flames. Lightning crackled from the dragon's mouth, joining with the flames and giving it a live appearance. The screams increased as I saw endless people running, on fire, their flesh melting off of themselves. The smell of burning flesh and hair wafted around the temple, making me gag, and retch.

I close my eyes and huddle behind the boulder, willing the bout of nausea away as I try and compose myself and figure out this whole situation. As the screams and wails of pain died down, I peered back over the boulder to see that the dragon-demon had descended onto the temple, breaking the dome, and shattering the roof. It reared onto its hind legs, and let out another piercing screech, knocking me flat on my ass from the pure pressure of the roar. Laying there, dazed, I recollect myself from being swept of my feet and I ran towards the temple, carefully stepping over the incinerated people, trying not to look down. The ringing in my ear from the roar left me deaf and disoriented but as I peered into the broken Western wall, I could see the extent of the destruction. Gone were the extravagant statues and gemstone mosaics. Gone were the varnished pews and the stone altar. Gone was the vast collection of books and the stone braziers. Everything was gray with ash and soot. The statues were trampled and crushed, the fragments of obsidian scattered to the wind. Instead of the perfume of spices for offering, the smell was of rot and destruction. Bodies were strewn on the floor, some eviscerated, some simply crushed and flattened. Still others were ashy skeletons, with the flesh burned right off of their bodies. The scene was so graphic, I was shaking uncontrollably, bile rising from my stomach, burning my throat.

I could see Divine Justinia V suspended in the air by purple orbs of energy. A group of men in silver armor surrounding her, the purple orbs tethered to their arms. She floated there, her face frightened, her head turning about looking for help. The ringing in my ears was starting to go away, and I could start to hear what was transpiring in front of me.

"Now is the hour of our victory." A deep voice resonated. It hurt to hear the voice as it echoed throughout the ruined temple. The voice seemed to echo deep within my chest, even, sending jabs of pain through my heart.

The Divine seemed panicky, surprised, even as she looked to one of the figures beside her that were channeling the binding spell.

"Why are you doing this? You of all people?"

She asked, towards the men around her. Her incredulity evident on her face.

The figure stepped off of the dragon's saddle, sauntering slowly towards The Divine. The dragon, free from its burden raised its head and roared again. It spread its wings and launched itself into the air. I whirled my head around to see that the dragon was flying towards the living quarters, the ruby red hue of its lightning flame coloring the night sky.

"Keep the sacrifice still." The deep voice said again. I turn back around, to see the tall figure pull out a pulsating green orb. Its emerald luminance frightened me, as it sent shivers down my spine. The figure presented the orb to the Divine's helpless figure and the emerald light flooded the ruins of the temple, illuminating the entire room. The Divine began to glow the same emerald as her face contorted in pain, her voice straining,

"Someone, HELP ME!"

The screaming from The Divine snapped me out of my reverie as I found that I could move once again. Jumping over the broken wall I approached,

"What's going on here?!" I shouted. Partly because I needed to distract them, but partly also because I was genuinely confused.

The figure turned his head, and I nearly fell from the horror that the face exuded. Four red shards of lyrium protruded from his skull, breaking the skin and giving him an external skeleton of sorts. The skin around these shards seemed to grow around it like scar tissue, making his face resemble a tree. On his right side of his face, a black shiny material was almost welded to his head, like a helmet had been melted into his face. I put my hands up instinctively, trying to shield myself. I looked over to see that Divine Justinia had also looked over, her face surprised that anyone had heard her. Her face swiftly turned into one of determination as she struggled and managed to break her invisible bonds. She proceeded to slap the green orb from the figure's hands, sending it rolling towards my direction. Sprinting towards the orb to keep it from the figure, my left hand connects with the orb.

Fire. Pure fire burned my hand, sending me into a state of shock. I could no longer feel my left arm as if it had been melted off by the dragon itself. Pure white hot pain engulfed me. The orb glowed a pure white, blinding everything as I fell and lost consciousness.

9:32

Standing gingerly, trying to avoid causing a commotion, I tiptoed to the door of the makeshift hospital. True, Arafel and Rinzfeld were dead, but Alabaom… Alabaom was still alive and fighting. I had wiped my tears, and resolved to go and pay Alabaom a visit, whatever help that was going to be. He and I were closer than the other two. Growing up, I had actually befriended Alabaom from an early age. When the pleasantries of royal parties and state dinners became too much, the two of us were always together causing mischief with the chef, or burgling jewelry from the guests. Our favorite prank was convincing the guests that came to Ostwick manor that it was haunted. We would snicker as the guests would come fleeing from the guest rooms in their floofy nightgowns screaming for dear life because of some bedsheet ghosts we had stitched together the night before.

As I opened the door, I looked around, checking to see that the coast was clear. If any of the manor servants or Maker forbid, my father saw me in the halls, they'd strap me down in bed and stuff food down my throat all day. I walked into the hallways and closed the door quietly behind me. I walked down the long corridor of rooms and headed towards the guest wing of the manor. The guest wing was in a far corner of the manor, separate from the main body of the estate. Indeed, for one to get to the guest wing, one had to pass by the main ballroom, pass the main office, the kitchens, and the main dining hall. The walk was arduous and frustrating as my dependency on the walls and railings to support my back made the trek painfully long. As I was passing by the main office, I noticed that the door was slightly open, and torchlight was streaming through. Odd. Usually around this time, my father would be out riding with his buddies over by the Western hills. I slowed my already snail-like pace and leaned in to find out what was going on.

"…He's the only one who could have done it. The Blight never travel away from large packs and the ones they killed were alone, by his direction." A new voice said.

"No. I cannot accept that that is the only explanation." My father said.

"Then explain how the darkspawn's appearance all the way in the Vimmark mountains." The new voice argued.

"Coincidence. There is no way that my son is able to do such a thing. He doesn't know magic!" My father pressed.

"Yet he has complained of dreams and wandering visions. Has he not been touched by the Fade? How has this information been kept under wraps?" the new voice challenged.

A silence passed around the room, only the crackle of torches could be heard.

"Exactly," he continued. "Darkspawn never make wasteful movements and they are only drawn to areas where there is a summoner or an Archdemon. So, Master Travelyan, which is it, an Archdemon or a summoner? Because last time I checked, the Archdemon that invaded the Free Marches died about four hundred years ago."

"There is no way he could have learned blood magic. I personally have been his tutor from when he was a babe and has never shown signs of magic, much less blood magic." My father said adamantly.

"Yes, he was injured, but three of them died out there, and your son got away with bleeding. Don't you find that a little strange?" The unknown voice challenged.

More silence as the people inside deliberated this new piece of information. A loud thud was heard from the room as someone had pounded the table.

"Find him. And bring him to me." My father said in a hushed whisper.

I began to sweat profusely. They were trying to blame the incident on me, and with blood magic to boot. I mean, I knew I had dreams, but I had no magic. They thought that I summoned the demon in the mountains. I hurriedly hobbled off, trying to get as far away as possible from the office. If I was caught, Andraste knows what would become of me. Passing the kitchens and the dining hall, I pushed open the door to the guest hall and fell into the hall. Kicking the door close, I propped myself on the wall and stumbled into the first room that was open. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up and saw Alabaom lying on the bed.

I had prepared a whole speech in my head of all the things I'd want to say to him. But seeing his face wiped all thoughts from my head. He was pale, and his cheeks were hollowed out, on his left neck I could see a tendril of purple discoloration peeking up beneath the sheets. His hair was matted with blood, all tangled and dirty, and his breaths were shallow, almost nonexistent.

I knelt by the bed, my hands reaching out to touch him, to comfort him in some way, but my fingers shook and he seemed so frail that a wrong touch might bruise him in some way.

"Roderick…I-I'm sorry." I managed to say, my voice cracking as emotion blossomed from my chest, making the tears spill over again in a new wave.

The door opened as a maid stepped in. My eyes flew to hers and we both stood there, wide-eyed in surprise and disbelief. I immediately try and get up, the pain in my back flaring up again. Stumbling and falling back to the floor, I yelped in pain, eliciting a string of curses.

"Fuck. Good Andraste." I muttered.

The maid hurried over to me, picking me up and resting me on the edge of the bed.

"Young master, what are you doing here?" she asked in a frenzied whisper.

Hurried footsteps rattled around outside the guest hall as maids in their swishing cotton uniforms and soldiers in their clanking armor rushed by.

"You must hurry, young master, they are looking for you." The maid said to me. "If they find you they will kill you, certainly. You must escape. I have a friend waiting outside that will take you to Antiva. You must run."

She ushered me out of Roderick's room, pushing me along the corridor to the servant's hall. As tears continued to stream down my face, I was ushered out of the manor from the servant's entrance and shoved into a cart. Like livestock, I was quickly handed off with short goodbyes and half-hearted apologies. The maid looked at me through the window in the servant's wing, her sympathetic face pitying me. As the horses were urged forward, I looked back towards the manor, in a dreary depressed manner, wondering what I had done to deserve all of this.

9:41

Roaches, the size of small dogs were scuttling along, making their rounds. They smelled fresh meat and they were trying to find the source. I lay behind a boulder, masking my hurried breath and gasping so as to not alert my position. I stand up cautiously and begin to run towards the bridge from where I came from. The roaches take notice. They're scuttling and screeching getting closer. A white figure from the green portal reaches out to me, her voice incomprehensible. The roaches are closer, climbing faster, climbing over each other and…

I open my eyes, slightly, letting in only a sliver of light. I see my hands, tied together, restraints holding my wrists together. I blink. What happened? A firestorm, a hooded figure, a wraith, and spiders? I close my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. I open my eyes again, staring blankly at the wooden block strangling my hands. Who was that woman? What were those roach-spiders? I turn my head slowly, taking in my new surroundings. The room is dark, musty. A few torches cast a depressing gloom around the area. I see my shadows, flickering in and out of existence from multiple angles. Their ghostly impermanence heightened only by the flickering of their respective torches. I see the shadows of other men, the dim light casting a harsh eclipse of light on me, like a foreboding giant contemplating his choice of what limb to break first. The silhouettes of their blades are just as terrifying, sabers drawn at me to prevent my escape. I am kneeling down, for some reason, ankles restrained by coarse rope. Redundant, in my opinion. The thistle twine cutting into my legs, strangling my feet. The stone beneath my knees are irritating, bruising them for good measure.

'Fuck.' I thought, 'There must be some mistake. I didn't steal anything this time, Arielle made me promise not to misbehave at the Conclave.'

My left hand is suddenly burning. As if I had stuck my hand in a forge, the heat is unbearable almost. A flare of lightning lights my hand emerald, illuminating the entire room.

"AHHH" I scream, trying to grab my left hand with my right, only to irritate the restraints. As a result, instead of grasping my left hand, I lose balance, falling onto my side in a fetal position. A boot shifts in the room. Nervous breathing. I hear the sound of sheathing swords. The singing of tempered steel ending with a concussive thud as the hilt met the scabbard. Two guards march over, grabbing my arms roughly, shoving me back into a kneeling position. My head droops from exhaustion, the muted pain of my hand spiking occasionally. I hear two voices, female, approaching the cell. The clink of armor and thud of brogans accentuated by the tinkle of chain mail and the soft undernotes of leather boots highlight their conversation.

"…is panicking. We need to evacuate the citizens before the town gets avalanched." One voice was hard, battle-bred, and callous. Her voice exuded authority and an uncanny steeliness.

"Evacuate?" The second voice asked. This voice was softer, more inquisitive and mysterious, much like an Orlesian noble play The Game. "Are you crazy? There are thousands that are present. How can they all move out-"

"Just get it done!" The first voice cut in. Their shadows appear under the door, growing as the figures approached the wooden door. The door is thrown open, hinges creaking from negligence and disuse. A loud bang echoes through the room as the door hits the wall of the cell. I squint, the oncoming light piercing through the doorway. I see the silhouettes of the two women, their frames lit by the sunlight. The guards relax their stances, sheathing their blades as the two women crossed the threshold. One approaches, in full armor. The symbol of the Seekers on her breastplate. Her hair is cut short, as per regulation, and her features are sharp and intense. Her face mirrors a hardened fury, distress and tension marking her face. Her sword, slung on her right hip, is at least a two and half feet long, reaching down to her ankles. Her handguards are spiked, but scratched, showing much use. She walks towards me, staring me down, eyes never leaving mine. An expression of contempt and disgust etched slightly on her lips. She walks past my right shoulder, pacing almost, the padding of her brogans the only audible sound. I switch my gaze to the other woman, who has walked and positioned herself in the full torchlight looking at me in confusion, as if she wanted answers for unspoken questions. Her expression is softer, her gaze inquisitive and searching. Her eyes, however, mirrored the same desperation that the Templar woman exhibited. She is wearing a hood of violet cloth, pinned at the apple of her chest with an Seeker's pin. Her leather hauberk is finely sewn, the stitching showing no tear despite the slight discolorations, showing years of use. The chain mail fitted over the hauberk is well kept and clean, free of rust. Two knives are strapped to her legs, the handles carved of fine red cedar. Each about three quarters of a foot long, the knives were housed in leather lined sheaths, sewn with intricate design. Her eyes flit back and forth between my own eyes and the other woman's face.

The first woman, the Templar, now leans into my left ear. Her breathing is erratic, panicked, and emotional. My eyes shift left to look into her eyes as she spoke.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." She says stonily, trying hard to not let emotion through.

I froze. Unable to say a word. 'What? What did I do? I don't remember doing anything to warrant a Templar threatening my death.' I thought to myself, panicking. I kept silent, not wanting to invoke her anger and spell my death, but all the while, my heart begins to race beyond control. The next words she uttered froze all thoughts in my head, freezing my heart as time seemed to stop. A weight pressed into my heart as despair settled in.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead."


End file.
